


The Prince of the Underworld

by peachblossom00



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: (its present but its not really what its about perse? its like how it is in the books), Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Minor Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, featuring brief cameos from several otr characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachblossom00/pseuds/peachblossom00
Summary: Percy and Annabeth's ill-fated plunge into Tartarus takes a turn when they come upon the underworld's prince and similarly ill-fated god of blood, Zagreus.
Comments: 71
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

ZAGREUS

It is not often that ill-favored Prince Zagreus pauses his attempted escapes up to the surface. This time, not for his least favored pact tenet, but simply due to impatience and hastiness.

Tsch, Zagreus thinks before turning his attention back to what it was that first gathered the oft-distracted Prince’s attention.

Looking out, across one of the many pools of magma roiling and boiling before him, across the re-constructed bank of the River Phlegethon, he sees a rather strange sight—at first he suspects shades, or Slam Dancers trying to pester him whilst out of range. Two little figures laying on the shore.

He can’t quite make out just who or what they are, and if nothing else, he is quite curious. He takes a moment to judge the logistics of running across the river’s burning surface to investigate such things.

ANNABETH

Annabeth is the first to wake post passing out from drinking from the River Phlegethon. After marching in terrified irritation after some plodding _empousai_ for a while, wavering between dying and drinking awful ghost chili smoothie, she’s been sapped of what little strength. So much so that, after what was meant to be a brief lie down, exhaustion took over her body—and, well, she fell asleep.

As she awoke though, she was certain she was trapped in a nightmare however, as a humanoid figure advanced upon her and Percy at great speed _across_ the burning lava river. But before she can rub the sulfur out of her eyes (or glass into them), the strange person skidded to a stop in front of them.

Annabeth has seen many strange things. Monsters and gods, etcetera etcetera, but she isn’t even sure what to make of this—man? He looked like he could pass for mortal if you didn’t look too intensely. He had sallow, kind of sickly skin, with one bright green eye—but his other’s is red, with a black sclera. Resting on his head are burning laurels, golden leaves falling to the ground before disappearing into ash. And his clothing is—he’s wearing streetwear? Athletic red leggings and a loose red muscle shirt with another tighter grey one underneath. Except, he’s also where a chiton, with a bone bracer on his shoulder.

Oh, and his feet are burning. Like, red-hot iron glowing. Not because they’re still on the river, just because they appear to… do that.

Nothing in this accursed place was normal.

PERCY

He was shaken awake from an unpleasant dream of his likely upcoming death at the talons of Kelli the Empousa. He figured, even before his eyes cracked open to the heat of the Underworld that this meant he and Annabeth were in deep shit.

Riptide unfurls from its pen form and his eyes adjust to the darkness, staring up and down at—a person? No, not a person—after these years, he’s got a good internal sort of compass for things that are detectably non-human, and this man isn’t it—though he looks very human besides the bizarre mishmash of athletic wear and armor. He doesn’t get quite the same sort of vibe as a monster, but he’s not human either—but he can’t be a god. Gods are ten feet tall and radiate power and authority.

Percy stares up from the man’s burning feet, up his grey Stygian armor leg braces, his knees guards shaped like skulls, up the man’s face. And—he doesn’t see anger, or bloodthirstiness, instead he just looks baffled—mismatched red and green eyes wide.

But that doesn’t mean this strange man, partially made of fire, is not threat. So with what little strength he’s recovered from his nap, he holds up Riptide and tries to seem threatening.

ZAGREUS

Well, today (night?) was turning out rather odd. At first, the Prince had thought as he got closer, he’d stumbled upon just some unfortunate shades huddled on the side of the river, sharing in misery that he certainly didn’t want to intrude upon. No big deal.

Except the closer he got, it was as though some veil over them lifted, or maybe more like he just realized something—some dormant sense awoken—that made it all click. The ghostly figures were not what they first seemed.

They were _alive_.

A young woman and young man besides him, both looking very tired, very dirty, and barely clinging onto life. Sallow blistered skin, covered head to toe in dirt and soot and even some of their own blood. They were positively miserable looking, and quite scared.

Okay, so this was a situation that required… tact and grace.

Prince Zagreus was so caught up in his shock that he only realized seconds later he’d been standing still on the river’s edge, and the burning pain had finally reached his brain. Ungracefully, he leapt off with a curse.

Well. So much for delicacy.

“Who—are you?” the young woman with the blonde hair asked. Her voice was coarse—not with emotion, but evidently from lack of moisture. Although, she did shake.

He put out his hands, “Hey now, I should be the one asking questions here, you two are alive!”

The young man, brandishing a fresh-from-nowhere sword, raises it warily.

Zagreus likes gusto, but “Oh please, two half dead mortals can’t take me on” he balked.

The young woman squinted. “So, who are you?” she asked, again.

He puffed air out his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t expect you to know about me… I am Prince Zagreus, son of Hades and Queen Persephone” he announced, thought if only to go through the motions and maybe speed through more questions.

The two squinted at him. Well, it was worth a shot.

“God of Blood, according to some” he offered.

He received two dumb-founded stares. Zagreus sighed, exasperated.

“Wait—you’re a god” the young man asked, lowering his sword a bit, which did help him feel a touch better even if he wasn’t really concerned about dying.

“I just said that” Zagreus said—not irritated, but he was starting to wonder just how much blood these two had lost.

The two mortals rose, unsteady, legs shaking. It made him feel a touch sorry for them, he realized just how small they looked. Not that he was tall, per say, but they just looked so… weak. And tired. And sad. But Prince Zagreus was perhaps the best god to notice there was a fierce spark lying underneath all that pain and exhaustion.

“We’re demigods. I’m a daughter of Athena, he’s the son of Poseidon” the young woman explained. “My name is Annabeth Chase.”  
“I’m Percy Jackson” the young man supplied, sword now hanging at his side.

Zagreus mulled for a moment. Demigods, in and of themselves, were not rare. Their names didn’t mean much to him (although did ring a bell, distantly) but he did of course recognize his Olympian relatives. It’d been some time since he’s gotten the chance to speak with Lady Athena particularly.

“Do you… not know who we are?” Annabeth asked, grey eyes wide, brows knitting together.

“Not really, sorry” Zagreus said, scratching the back of his head. “What exactly are you two doing in Tartarus?”

Annabeth and Percy exchanged Looks. Looks of exasperation in fact.

“It’s a long story” Annabeth said.

“We crashed through a hole into the Underworld with a little Italian car and a half-woman half-spider” Percy then added.

Zagreus’s eyes widened and he blinked incredulously.

PERCY

He had to say, for all the gods he had yet met, prince Zagreus was perhaps the strangest. First, he was young. Maybe mid-twenties in appearance. Second, he didn’t have the same aura as the other gods had. Other gods radiated power, influence, stateliness. There was the keen distinction between them and mortals even when they took more mortal forms if you knew how to look. But Zagreus just appeared to be a tall athletic man. If he wore sunglasses, one wouldn’t even see his ruby red eye surrounded by inky blackness, leaving only the burning laurels resting on his head.

So it made Percy wonder—maybe he wasn’t really a god? It wasn’t inconceivably for monsters to make up such lies. Manipulated the Mist enough that he wasn’t quite as terrifying maybe.

But he did know better than to say so, yet.

For what it was worth, Prince Zagreus didn’t seem certain about them either. He eyed them as they walked, like he was trying to figure them out. It was only then that Percy realized he’d produced a two-pronged spear from the air and walked with it now. So, despite the voice in his head telling him it was a bad idea, he put Riptide away—because, well, brandishing a sword at a maybe-god was a bad idea. But, he kept his hand hovering over the pen in his pocket.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You were attempting to recover an important giant statue of the Lady Athena but unfortunately a hole into Tartarus opened up and you two got pulled in after Arachne?”

Annabeth sucked air in, looked briefly at Percy—he tried to beam to her some assurance—and said, “Yes, I know it sound ridiculous, but it’s the truth sir.”

Zagreus hummed but did not verbally confirm or deny believing them. Which meant one thing—he didn’t. Fair enough, Percy thought. They really had no basis to given that they just said they’d fallen out of the _sky_.

But Percy was willing to grasp for anything—so he thought back. Think, Seaweed brain, think, he commanded. What sort of way could they make themselves sound more credible? He didn’t really seem to perk up or perk… down at the mention of the Olympians, just sort of blink, which he supposed given the relationship between Hades and his heavenly relatives wasn’t exactly unfounded.

“Hey—question, since you’re Hades son” Percy began. Annabeth shot him a look, like what’re you doing?

Zagreus made a flat expression. “Yes—I just said that, maybe you two should sit down again.”

Percy waved his hand, “We’re okay, I just wanted to ask—did you happen to meet a Nico de Angelo? He visited your father’s house some time ago?”

He knew he was gambling, but it might be their best way of telling how truthful this Zagreus character really was who he said he was. Annabeth raised a brow but looked at him with approval. Nice.

“Oh—yes. He’s a little short, with black hair, a little gloomy, but polite” Zagreus said, and looking into his expression, he could see Zagreus looking back fondly.

Annabeth smiled a little. “Yeah, that’s Nico.”

“How do you know him?” Zagreus asked, making conversation as it looked like he was scanning the opposite bank.

Percy felt a range of differing emotions go through him. He really didn’t have time or energy to deal with all of them—but—he—

“We all go to the same camp for demigods together” Annabeth supplied, saving him from the silence he realized he’d left hanging in the air.

Zagreus laughed lightly, “Oh, that sounds fun”

Annabeth and Percy exchanged another look. Oh yes, if it doesn’t get destroyed in the next few months by either monsters or the Roman legion. That reminded him—Zagreus didn’t seem to be in the same splitting grip the other gods had been in. At least—not yet?

Zagreus looked down upon them with a mixture of pensiveness and a sort of profound fondness—maybe empathy? Percy wasn’t sure. His fiery energy seemed to dim for a moment, before alighting again. “You two seem worse for wear—technically, I’m at work now, but I don’t think I can just leave the friends of my half brother milling about. Why don’t I help you two get out?”

The prospect of getting escorted out of this place by the probable Prince of the Underworld was _very_ tempting. He’d walked into traps before, but if this was a trap, it was rather elaborate. And, perhaps selfishly, he was exhausted. He knew he was willing to fight to the death at Annabeth’s side, _but_ if they could avoid dying that’d be great.

Annabeth, however, gripped his arm. “Do you mind if we discuss this first, Prince?” she said, batting her eyelashes.

Zagreus shrugged. “Fine by me” then turned around to walk back a little ways up the river.

“Percy, are we sure we can count on this guy?” she whispered, glancing over to watch Zagreus, who was…. Fishing? In the River Phlegethon.

Y’know. Whatever, just another thing to add to the weird list.

He could feel the ache in his muscles all the way down to his bones, maybe even into the marrow. They already knew that the air was killing them. That the place was crawling with monsters. That they were hopelessly lost, looking for the Doors of Death in a place designed to keep the dead in. If Zagreus was really the God of the Dead’s son, he was perhaps their best bet of getting out of there.

Maybe their only bet.

“We don’t really have much of a choice” he said, holding her shoulders, trying to assure her. He wasn’t sure either, he wanted her to know, but they literally had a snowball’s chance in hell of making it through this without Zagreus’s help.

Annabeth nodded.

ZAGREUS

Zagreus considered the best way to get back across the river that did not involve picking up both mortals while he fished. There were a few other things on his mind as he heard but could not make out whatever it was they were discussing.

He did remember Nico quite well. An interesting lad, Achilles put it, for their brief time together—between escape attempts, that was. Zagreus hesitated, at first, to try to get too close to the boy, because he felt like it’d be weird when Nico, inevitably, died one day. But eventually, Meg pointed out he was being a little stupid with that (“wouldn’t you rather make a good impression while he’s alive?”). They played a few rounds of the Entertainment table, but Nico, mainly seemed pleased enough to be off on his own—or to hang out with the former Titan now known as Bob, Dusa’s new assistant.

“Okay, we’ll come along” Annabeth announced, bringing him back from his cloud of thoughts.

It was just at that moment that the Phlegethon produced a prize chrustacean, which he stashed away.

When he turned back, he saw Percy and Annabeth staring at him dumbly.

“Things—live—in—the river? Made of fire?” Percy struggled to say.

“Oh yes, although they are still considered part of your father’s domain” he said.

Percy made a face like a frog. Zagreus shrugged it off. Maybe part of being Poseidon’s son meant he hated sea creatures being captured, or something.

Afterwards, they set off—a little merry band.

As they walked, Zagreus did have more time to muse while he peered over the river. See, the Prince knew—favor to Nico of not—he was probably doing something wrong. He just had the feeling. People who came to the land of the dead weren’t supposed to escape—not easily. Even if they’d just fallen in—which, he still wasn’t quite certain of—one does not simply fall into the Underworld and then waltz out.

But they were just… so sad looking. He couldn’t just let them get killed. Not to mention, it’d be a tad awkward if the next time Nico came to visit there were two shades named Percy and Annabeth at their Father’s house.

ANNABETH

They walked for a while longer. She was tired, and still hurting, but somehow being near Zagreus had the strange side effect of making her feel less in pain, less like the very air of Tartarus was trying to suck the life out of her.

She could see the cogs of Percy’s mind turning for a while, until it produced another question for their Underworld tour guide.

“Prince, where are we exactly?” he asked.

“Well, you’re technically in Asphodel, but you’re on one of the flood plains of the Phlegethon” he explained simply, gesturing to the river.

Looking out, Annabeth could actually make out that, yeah, they were indeed in a magma-ie floodplain. Smooth ridges carved into the black sands, dry for now. She could also see great stone masonry built in an attempt, presumably to control the flooding at some point. It never occurred to Annabeth that rivers in hell could flood too.

“I thought Asphodel was some pretty field full of flowers” Annabeth said, seeing only sparse grey bunch grasses.

“You should have seen the flooding previously. It’s taken some time for the fields to recover, but if you kept going that way,” Zagreus gestured away from them, “you’d hit them eventually.”

Oh, well that’s comforting. Milling about a dark greyish field with all the other middling dead. Maybe not the worst fate, or no worse than putting a whole lot of her trust into some mysterious God of Blood she’d never heard of.

Though pain and exhaustion had muddied her keen mind, that hadn’t stopped her from combing through the backlog of all the things she learned at Camp to see if maybe she had heard of this god. It was sort of a longshot, unfortunately—there were many gods, sometimes who were just another god but with a different name, or just spelled differently, or maybe they were two separate gods. Either way, it was a lot to remember.

After walking along the river Phlegethon for a while, exhaustion gripped her so tightly she thought she might collapse were it not for Percy holding her up—but she got the sense they were two half-dead kids propping each other up by the way Percy leaned on her. Like two sticks about to fall over if not for the pressure they put against each other

Zagreus eventually stopped to turn and look at them again, and suddenly looked quite concerned. “You two don’t look great.”

“Thanks for noticing, sir” Percy said, joking but half-slurred. His eyes looked unfocused.

She heard the Prince stifle a laugh, clearly thinking it inappropriate. He stopped for a moment, looking thoughtful, then snapped his fingers. “I know just the thing, although unfortunately I am going to need to pick you both up, because we’ve been walking, and I haven’t seen a single bridge.”

_Aren’t you Prince, shouldn’t you know?_ Annabeth thought, but kept it to herself, and hoped that the Prince couldn’t secretly read minds.

Annabeth was too tired to argue and didn’t exactly have any bright ideas about walking across a river of lava. So, quite gently she might add, she and Percy were tossed like sacks of potatoes over his shoulder. It did remind her that he was a god. And, in a different universe, where she wasn’t a half-dead half-blood, she might have taken just an ounce of joy out it.

“Alright, so, as you both know, the whole point of the Underworld is that you’re dead and you can’t leave” Zagreus quickly explained, before turning on his heels and readying his spear. “My job is to test all that, which means that a bunch of shades are about to pop up and attack me. You two should hang back—they’ll probably leave you alone.”

Annabeth did not like the word _probably_. Before she could ask another question though, Zagreus bounded off and sure enough, from burning sigils in the floor, skeletal figures arose. They bounced around the arena, tossing teal, orange, and purple bombs at the Prince, who sped around to avoid them, then tossed his spear through his attackers. He flicked his wrist and the spear returned, ripping back through the wound he’d produced.

It was a sight to behold—when Zagreus dashed, he turned into an orangish glow, a flaming haze to jab his spear into ribs and bash skulls. It was quite graceful, almost, until she watched him land just a foot or so away from one of the bombs they threw. He didn’t even have time to curse before it blew, sending volcanic glass raining around where he’d been.

She and Percy both sucked air through their teeth.

While she had no doubts that a god could shrug off the injury, but it did look like it hurt—which felt weird. Gods marked, injured. She had seen it happen, but it didn’t make it any less odd—what was more odd was his blood was red, as opposed to golden ichor.

And then he bounded off again, until all the bomb lobbing skeletons were dispatched. Zagreus sighed in relief.

“I hate slam dancers” he lamented, licking his thumb to wipe a glob of ash off is brow. “One moment, you two” he called.

Then, near to him—there was a tone, dull and deep, and then a light. Like a little lamp, with an emblem—a bird’s wing. Annabeth’s mind spun—Hermes?

Zagreus reached out and touched the glowing orb. Though far away, she could see a face in the light—obscured somewhat, but she could see, sure enough, a man with wings on his head. Yes, indeed Hermes.

They talked but it sounded like Hermes was underwater. Zagreus spoke clearly, but just said “nice.” The light dispersed.

Annabeth and Percy hobbled over, staring at the spot where the light was. “What was that?” she asked.

Zagreus turned around. “Oh, that? I just got a boon from Hermes was all. I’ll try to slow down so you can keep up.”

Well, that made sense. Of course, gods could just exchange messages and the like—but he just got a boon? Like, asked for one? Annabeth didn’t know what to say. Was it really that easy? She could spend her whole life praying and there were a handful of occasions where her godly parent responded. Yes, she understood why it was a bad idea to just chit chat idly but come on!

Problem for another time, Annabeth reminded herself. She was grateful.

“Follow me, then” Zagreus waved, walking towards some macabre looking rafts made from ashen skulls and other bones.

Zagreus helped them both on and they plopped down immediately. Zagreus stood at the helm, although didn’t seem to be doing any sort of steering motion. Instead, he seemed deep in thought, before saying something under his breath.

“Prince Zagreus, if I may…?” Annabeth began, trying not to move too much on the raft for fear of it tipping—she could feel the heat of the river under her butt and didn’t care to find out what falling in would entail.

“Go ahead” he invited.

He was so easy to talk to, it was kind of weird. Annabeth wondered if she’d hit her head on the way down and had been misreading the situation wildly.

“Okay, so your job is escaping—to test the Underworld’s defenses?” Annabeth asked. “By trying to escape?”

Zagreus mused for a second. “I am a warden of sorts, I guess. It’s my job to test Underworld defenses by trying to escape. I’ve been doing this for a while now, but my father comes up with new ways to stop the dead from leaving.”

“Does it involve fighting monsters?” Percy asked, gazing distantly towards the side of the river.

“Some yes, some no. For a while it wasn’t needed, but lately there has been quite a mess stirring up. But this is still my job, and what’s the point of having all these defenses if they don’t stop monsters from leaving.”

_No offense, but you’re not doing a great job, lately_ , Annabeth thought, bitterly, but kept it to herself. She could see Percy’s face screwing up a little, perhaps feeling similarly.

But, she could see Zagreus’s dark red eye considering them, and she felt something of a chill go up her spine. God of Blood… what if he could sense their pulse or something? She felt her blood freeze.

He didn’t seem—unhappy, just curious, though, but it worried her still. There was a lot they didn’t know, and Zagreus presumably did. Zagreus, Prince of this realm, who dashed across lava and could just pick them both up and toss them despite, really, not being that much taller than Frank or Jason.

PERCY

“Alright—we should be able to get you two help here” Zagreus said, holding out his hand to gesture both he and Annabeth get off on another black rocky shore.

Percy immediately, thought he was dying. Not because of the pain he felt—but because he heard singing. Beautiful singing. Two voices, gentle tones flowing out into the noxious air of the Underworld. Sonorous, but soft, weaving together like two lover’s fingers entwining.

What poet just possessed him? Percy thought, as they walked towards the sound, until his tired brain could make out the lyrics, muffled as they were through the building’s stone walls.

_“Good riddance to all the thieves… ♪”_

“One moment” Zagreus said, holding up a finger then dashed into the wall behind which the song was muffled—wait, no, through it.

But Percy just wanted to listen to that song forever, rather than muse on that fact Zagreus could become incorporeal.

The singing stopped, but he could still hear the strumming of the lyre in tune with the rest of the song, presumably. And it did—for a brief second, before Zagreus emerged from the wall again.

“Alright, I’m going to have to transport you two through” Zagreus said.

Scooped into the arms of a god, for the second time, was no less weird, but the weirdness of that was also quickly surpassed by the weirdness of going through a wall. In an instance, he felt a chill shiver up his spine as they went through the thick stone wall, feeling almost like he was temporarily turned into jelly, then re-materialize on the other side.

He felt sick, but given that his stomach was full of fire, he kept it down.

Zagreus zipped off to grab Annabeth, and for the moment he was alone he took in the sights—a remarkable cozy home amidst the fires of Asphodel. Along the walls were various cooking instruments—a cupboard with a barrel and a box full of pomegranates, the other with a fine table scattered with other food items, and then a big stove with a huge pot roiling on top. There was also a blue bed pushed up against the corner. There were a few other knick-knacks ordered neatly on shelves above.

Were it not for the bone décor in the walls, it would have seemed terribly out of place in Tartarus.

Standing at the back are the two singers presumably—one is an unmistakable wood nymph. She’s tall and lithe, with hair made like the crown of a tree. Her arms are decorated in tattoos—bright and colorful flowers and plants. In fact, she is highly decorated with bracelets and things tied around her waist, including a hand-drum. Besides her is a man who looked like a sixties hair-metalist fused with a goth. He had a crazy black frock, black painted lips and two long tear lines drawn underneath his eyes, and long black nails that he strummed his lyre with.

They were an interesting pair for sure.

“Oh, my, you two really do look rough. Well, nothing a good meal can’t fix” The nymph said, hands on her hips. The twig in her mouth shifted.

When Percy gazed down, he saw that their feet sort of faded at the bottom—turned transparent and misty. Oh, yeah—they’re dead.

“Hey Orphy, can you get me some bowls and the floor mats” she said, then walked over to the great big pot and started stirring.

_Orphy_ …?

Annabeth put it together faster than he did. “Wait a minute, you two—you’re Eurydice and Orpheus” she said, jumping a little.

“Sure are” Eurydice said in a sing-song tone.

Orpheus set down his lyre and knelt by a cabinet, rifling through it.

“So how is that you two got here exactly?” Eurydice asked, turning half towards them to keep one eye on the pot and another eye on her guests.

“We fell in” Percy said, wincing.

Orpheus, with five reed mats in his arm, rolled them out on the floor. “Oh my,” he said quietly, grimacing at them both.

_Say no more_ , Percy thought, nearly falling straight to the ground. They must have looked pathetic, but then again, he somehow doubted that Eurydice and Orpheus were just going to like, eat them at any second or something, although that pot was rather big.

“Well, it’s not often two demigods just fall into Tartarus, so why don’t you tell me your story so that I may commit it to song” Orpheus asked as he gathered all the bowls necessary and stood by Eurydice’s side.

Annabeth looked at him. Percy would like to think that they were close enough to read each other’s minds, more or less, and her expression read “well, might as well,” so they both began the very long tail of getting chased around by monsters for most of their lives, fighting titans, and now the whole mess with Gaia.

As they told their life stories, essentially, Zagreus sat in rapt attention while Eurydice and Orpheus presented dinner. Sitting in a small circle, it almost reminded him of nights at Camp Halfblood and, also, his nights at Camp Jupiter—both of which, made him feel terribly homesick. Annabeth, at least, must have felt similarly, because he felt her hand snake into his and squeeze.

Percy knew, hey, maybe don’t just dive right into some random bowl of delicious, fruity-smelling food that’s been handed to you by a deceased wood nymph and her unfortunate husband, but his stomach said screw that.

So, he stuffed his face unceremoniously.

“Thank you so much, ma’am” Percy said after he was no longer so hungry, he hurt, because his mother raised him better.

Eurydice smiled, eyes crinkling. “Of course, hun.”

“You two sound like you’ve had quite a unfortunate journey indeed” Orpheus said, strumming his lyre absent mindedly.

Yeah, you could say that.

“Do either of you happen to remember the way out…?” Percy asked, squinting a bit.

Eurydice burst out laughing. Orpheus looked like he wanted to crumple in on himself.

“Very funny, but no, unfortunately. You see, even if I did, Tartarus re-arranges itself over time, so that no one can memorize the layout” Eurydice explained.

Annabeth hung her head. “Worth a shot.”

Zagreus hummed in agreement. “Don’t worry, there’s a semi-permanent route up that I use.”

“Semi-permanent?” Percy asked, stressing the _semi_.

“Don’t worry” he waved his hand.

Percy did not feel all that dissuaded from his hesitance, but it seemed as though Orpheus might have sensed this somehow.

“Don’t worry, Prince Zagreus has performed a number of impressive feats…” Orpheus announced, sitting up straight just a bit.

“Orpheus, please don’t start this” Zagreus lamented.

“…which I have catalogued in song!”

Eurydice stifled a laugh, and Orpheus started singing. Percy had to say—when he was hurdling towards the depths of Tartarus, all but certain he and Annabeth would have to be scraped off the cave floor, he was not envisioning this.

So, Percy and Annabeth ate their food, and Orpheus sang of Prince Zagreus’s great many feats to pass the time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio makes their way through Asphodel in an attempt to make it beyond.

ANNABETH

Eventually, after a rest, it was time to set off again. Annabeth almost felt sad to say goodbye to two very interesting people just so soon after meeting, but there was a thought at the back of her mind that said _well,_ _you might not have to wait that long_ , that she tried to silence.

The next few rotations went pretty simply. She and Percy hung back, out of the way, whilst Zagreus attacked the shades of his father’s realm with great enthusiasm. There were a few instances where the shades did take an interest, but she and Percy had a system going on—she’d bash them with a rock, Percy would slice through them with Riptide while they were distracted by her audacity. Simple enough, since Zagreus had already shown them that the bomb-throwing ones tossed one last bomb after they died, so they knew to get away.

There were a couple of weird things, because of course there was. Zagreus got a few more boons—there was an icy chill in the air at one moment, and they caught a brief glimpse of an elderly, stately looking woman, which she presumed to be Demeter given her emblem was blade of wheat. Another time, after they’d thought Zagreus had ridded the island of its deadly inhabitants, he attempted to open up a dark basalt trove. A voice like thunder boomed THIEF! And suddenly yet more shades flooded the room again.

Afterwards, he opened the trove and produced—a—gyro?

“Are you two still hungry?” Zagreus asked, holding the suspicious sandwich in hand.

Annabeth knew that she did not trust that gyro as far as she could through it, or any food for that matter that came out of the evil looking box. So, she shook her head no.

The Prince shrugged. “Alright then” then stuffed it into his mouth as they moved onto the next island.

This island seemed a little different though—stepping out onto the beach, she could see some stairs leading up to… somewhere? As opposed to the scattered graves sinking into lava. But Zagreus, halfway towards the stairs, stopped right on his heels, and turned, baring his teeth in a grimace.

“I. Hm, well it’s not your time yet, presumably, so hopefully it won’t be an issue. Follow me” Zagreus said, thinking out loud apparently.

Up the stairs they went and Annabeth wanted to turn straight back around. Immediate to the left of the entrance was an icy presence, one that chilled the hot sulphury air. A purple plume of smoke left the being’s skeletal lips.

Under a wide brimmed hat, oar in hand, deep in the sunken eyes of Charon were two purple glowing pupils getting wide as she and Percy came into view.

“Heeyyy Charon” Zagreus said, trying to sound casual.

“Hnnngrhh!” Charon groaned pointing at them.

“Yeah, I know, look, it’s not like that”  
“Mggrrrhhhhhhhh!” Charon—said?—shaking his skeletal finger at them.

Annabeth knew one thing. The last thing she wanted was the ferryman of the dead pissed off at them.

Zagreus sighed, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine, one second.”

Charon folded his arms, apparently glaring at the Prince.

From the pockets of his sweatshirt Prince Zagreus produced two golden obols. “Alright this is gonna sound weird, but can you two put these in your mouths?”

Annabeth and Percy exchanged looks. Judging by the way Charon held his oar, she really didn’t feel like testing his patience. So, she took an obol, and put it on her tongue. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d tasted that day, so she was happy to if it meant that Charon would let them pass.

Charon scrutinizes the two demigods.

“Charon, mate, please? Listen—what if I pay you two-hundred obols at Styx” the Prince offered, smiling in a strained way.

Charon puffs ghastly smoke. It smelled of sickly-sweet incense—like a newly dead person. Annabeth could see Percy making a face.

“Two fifty.”

Charon grumbles.

“Three hundred.”

Charon grumbles again, softer this time, considering.

“Three fifty. Please?”  
The boatman smooths the brim of his hat. He shrugs.

Zagreus pumps a fist into the air. “Thank you mate, you won’t regret it!”

Annabeth watches Charon rolls his eyes, but if she didn’t know any better, she did sense some sort of levity from him. Not a smile, because he lacked the facial structure to do so, but his shoulders had fallen a bit.

“Alright you two, keep the obols on you, but you can take them out of your mouths now” Zagreus said.

So, she spat out the gold coin and stuffed it into her pocket.

Viewing Charon’s wares as Zagreus selected from them—she saw—she knew it. She knew it without knowing. One glowing sigil hung in the air, a bronze shield. That was her mother’s sigil. Her mother, just inches away from being able to talk to her. A whole of rush of emotions filled her exhausted body and brain—anger, longing—she wanted nothing more than to just see her mom.

“Prince” she said, softly.

“Yes Miss Chase?” he said, polite and chipper.

“I hate to ask but—can I just watch you talk to her—my mom?” she felt so childish asking, but she was too tired to really let the blood warm her cheeks. It might not even have shown from the ash.

Zagreus studied her for a moment. “Of course—I don’t think she’ll be able to see you, though.”

“That’s fine” she said, even if she didn’t necessarily feel it.

So, she stood next to the Prince and watched him open the message. Closer now, she could make out the opening to Olympus much better—she could see her, see Athena. Different looking now, with dark bronze skin and blue hair, but still wearing a stately looking suit. She looked—not cold, but reserved, but some warmth filled her eyes when Zagreus came into view.

And, despite the part of her mind saying _that’s not your mother, that’s not what she looks like_ , her heart said otherwise. Something about the angles of her face, maybe.

“Greetings noble cousin. Unfortunately, I can’t stay for speak long, but I hope that this will be of use to you on your journey.”

And then Athena disappeared. And somehow, despite everything, Annabeth did feel just a bit better. For all her complicated feelings towards her mother, she felt a touch re-invigorated. Even though she could feel Charon’s icy stare piercing her the whole time.

Zagreus purchased a pomegranate next, and then they departed.

“Well, to make it to Elysium, and therefore the rest of the way I’ve got to make it past Lernie—normally, not an issue, but I don’t know if there’s a way for you two to just hang back…”

“We can get out of the way” Annabeth said, sounding more confident than she felt.

Zagreus’s eyebrows knit. “I… alright, just, obviously, don’t let the lava touch you…”

As they arrived at their destination, Annabeth realized she’d misplaced her false confidence, and Zagreus was right to be concerned. Because Lernie just so happened to be placed in scattered small islands amidst a big pool of lava, aka that there was nowhere to back up to.

And Lernie was, presumably, the giant skeletal snake head, rising from the lava.

ZAGREUS

“Hey Lernie, long time no see” Zagreus entreats, trying somehow to hide Annabeth and Percy behind him. He knows he isn’t that tall or wide, but maybe if he can just keep the Hydra’s attention…?

Lernie lets out their standard hiss and does engage Zagreus with much gusto—maybe they just didn’t care. So, they do their normal song and dance—Lernie sung their big head at him, Zagreus dashed away. He stabs, he spins, he throws his spear and calls it back. And then, the instance he worried about—Lernie’s standard orange head glows blue, and the lava boils.

Bursting from the lava, a green head emerges, then a pink, then another green. Damn, at least with the blue heads he could maybe foresee the two demigods being able to stay out of the way if they didn’t stay in one place. But not with this configuration of heads.

He’s also, truth be told, not used to having to keep track of anyone else during a fight—especially not two squishy mortals. So, he watched the pink wave shoot his way, and the little bone egg get shot off. He makes his choice—he runs off towards the green head. He dashes through the pink shockwave and tries to eliminate the first green head as quickly as possible.

Zagreus is interrupted by hearing a shout from across the lava pools and sees the two demigods dash in two different directions. He’s surprised either one is able to vault the distance, but he really doesn’t want to see them try again.

Then he feels Green Lernie Head One chomp down on him. Ah, for the love of—

PERCY

Getting chased by the undead Lernaean Hydra was not what he was hoping to do that day, but at the moment he was dodging and weaving an enormous green hydra head.

Gods, Zagreus made it look easy.

Percy and Annabeth had a system going—they’d split off and then run back together in the hopes of staving off the Hydra head’s attacks for long enough, or maybe vainly hoping that the Hydra would decide they were much too trouble and should focus on the _whole_ god as opposed to the half gods.

No such luck. The Hydra was dogmatic, biting and hissing and slamming its head into the ground. The largest head occasionally spat out bright bursts of fire in a spiraling pattern that Percy had to duck under to avoid getting hit by, hearing them crackle just over his head.

This _sucked_.

“Percy!” Annabeth shouted as she charged towards him, “Run my way!”

He didn’t question it, so he bull rushed full speed towards her. He could see the pink head chasing Annabeth right behind her.

Ah, I see where this is going, he thought.

In the second before they were about to collide, they grabbed each other’s arms and threw themselves sideways, crashing into the earth. The heads were not so lucky and slammed into each other fully force.

The big orange head in the middle hissed in outrage.

They scrambled onto their feet, he stabbed one Hydra in the head. Annabeth kicked the other.

“Miss Chase, catch!” he heard the prince shout, and the glowing blue spear landed an inch away from Annabeth’s hand.

Without much fanfare, Annabeth took the Prince’s spear and stabbed the other Hydra’s head. Then it pulled out of her hands, back into the Prince’s.

His girlfriend was _so_ cool. Percy felt lucky, despite everything.

ANNABETH

Alright, she felt pretty cool. The split second of getting to hoist a godly spear over her head and thrust it into a bone hydra was the first moment in the whole forsaken time in that place that she felt like she was winning, just the once.

The prince must have freed himself from the jaws of the Hydra sometime between, and swiftly dispatched it after he dropped to the ground.

“Are you two alright?” he shouted between fighting the middle head again now that it was no longer glowing blue.

“No but we’ll live!” she shouted over the roaring hiss of the hydra.

The fight continued and Prince Zagreus seemed to fight with renewed energy—probably trying to end it as quickly as possible. With only one head now, the Hydra focused on him solely until—

It let out another ghastly hiss and the Prince cursed, “get behind the stalagmites!” he shouted.

The same pink flame shots spat forth from the Hydra’s lips, this time at much greater speed and volume. Annabeth crashed behind a wall and felt it shake, sending boulders scattering besides her.

The Prince leapt from behind and threw the spear, launching it right into the Hydra’s forehead. It hissed in anger and shimmered blue once more. Annabeth cursed and scrabbled for a rock as she watched yet more roiling pools in the lava’s surface.

And from the river came not another three but _six_ heads.

Annabeth felt weak all over, but steeled her courage.

ZAGREUS

He really just wanted to tell Lernie it was time for a time out, but he knew that never was going to work.

Zagreus used all the tools at his disposal to try to end this quickly—the electric burst from his bloodstone cast as it bounced between heads before lodging into one, throwing and retrieving his spear, throwing and retrieving, as he leaped between heads.

He vaguely could see the demigods giving it their all—mainly, running around at great speed, but he had to say, you had to be pretty ballsy to hit the Lernaean hydra with a _rock_.

But he could see they were tiring—moving just that much slower. Percy nearly sunk a heel into lava when pushed to the margin and Zagreus held his breath.

Normally, he’d save this for later—

“Meg!” he shouted.

“I’m here” she said, ghostly at first as she materialized.

Percy and Annabeth screamed in an undignified manner as Meg, wonderful Meg, paused a beat to stare at them before saying, “I don’t want to know” and with her mid-air flip, caused a purple explosion to knock out three of the heads at once.

“Thanks!” he called as she disappeared.

With that taken care of, he dispatched the other three heads with a burst of electricity from his bloodstone.

Zagreus let out a sigh of relief, since now the hardest part was over.

“He’s not going to summon nine more, will he?” Percy yelled from across the room.

“Nope this is it!” Zagreus answered, gathering his cast back and awaiting the moment Lernie’s invulnerability lapsed.

Soon enough, Lernie was back to his unarmored self. Weaving around the hydra’s last head, he chipped away in his normal fashion. What surprised him was that, despite their terror and exhaustion, Percy and Annabeth still helped—for as much as they could. In an instance in which he’d been pushed off, towards the lava, Annabeth pelted Lernie with rocks to get his attention, then Percy thrust out his hand—and—much to his surprise, the River Phlegethon rose to his command, erupting onto Lernie, who looked equally surprised.

Coming from behind, with a final stab of his spear, Lernie exploded.

“Nice work you two!—are you alright?” he asked as the two collapsed, sitting on the ground.

He got a weak thumbs up. Well, he’d take just breathing so long as it meant the two still lived.

PERCY

He woke up in a completely different room than he remembered passing out in—the undead hydra’s lava lair—in a cool dark room. Bronze machinery—large cogs and other machina—whirled as some sort of distant machine hummed. The tiling was a royal dark blue, with golden sigils of Hades marking the walls.

Opposite them was what looked like a dark purple pool of liquid in a basin, and a bath of some kind that had blood red liquid pouring over skulls, and some sort of glass box. Spooky.

Zagreus was at first nowhere to be found, but then he heard two voices in the hall—the hall he felt heat coming from, presumably leading back to Asphodel.

“Zagreus, of all the reckless things… you know that Lord Hades hasn’t been in his right mind of late, and now you’re bringing two children right to his doorstep?” it was the same voice from before—the same of wiry feminine voice he’d heard coming from the bat-like creature he’d just gotten a glimpse of.

“I have a plan”  
He heard her scoff.

“I—Meg, they’re Nico’s friends, I’m sure that my father will be a little more understanding.”

“I—oh please. You are the _last_ person I would have ever guessed to count on your father’s good graces.”

Zagreus sighed. There was a beat of silence, and Percy inched closer—close enough to see the two. In the glowing light, he saw—not a creature, but a woman, with light blue skin and long bluer hair, and a single hot-pink batwing. She had golden shoulder armor and more gold affects but similarly wore some dark-blue athletic wear like the prince.

Meg… _Megaera_ … the first Fury. She was much different than she’d looked all those years ago when they’d first taken a brief trip to Hades’ realm, but sure enough, that was her, and he desperately hoped he’d grown enough she didn’t recognize him.

And Zagreus could just… summon her? Alright, any sort of previous accusations that Zagreus might be lying were thoroughly put out. He was _definitely_ the prince of the underworld.

Percy silenced the yelp that wanted to creep out.

He watched her study Zagreus’s face. Where Zagreus lacked that sort of air of ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ like many gods had, she _definitely_ did. But he also saw the hardness of her expression leave, and just looked just sort of profound and concerned.

“Listen, Meg—It’s my choice to get mixed up in this. Father doesn’t know yet that they’re here—”

Megaera held her hand up and Zagreus stopped speaking.

“I can see you, demigod” she said, putting a hand on her hip.

Welp. Sorry Annabeth, we were planning on at least dying heroically, but instead Percy was going to die of a heart attack right there on the spot.

With a long breath of air out his mouth, maybe his last (hence why he dragged it out), Percy emerged from behind the corner and looked up. And then kept looking up because Megaera was easily eight feet tall.

“I’m sorry ma’am” he sputtered, “I didn’t want to intrude.”

Megaera raised a brow. Percy didn’t like the way she held her whip in her hand, nor the way her bright orange eyes pierced him.

“Zagreus told me you helped him fight the hydra with your girlfriend over there. Is that correct?” she asked, the dull tone of disregard and skepticism ringing in her voice—not at the act itself, but sort of the ‘you? _Really_?’

“Yes, ma’am.” Percy felt like he’d freeze into stone any second.

“He also told me that you two fell in trying to recover an artifact for the goddess Athena. Did you?” Megaera asked, smacking the palm of her hand with the coiled whip.

“Yes ma’am” Percy said quickly, wincing.

“Ah… yes, I do remember you, half-blood… you’ve managed to stay in good graces, so I won’t bring you back to Lord Hades and Queen Persephone just yet… but be warned. Zagreus is sticking his neck out for you, and if I found out he’s dead or in big trouble for the sake of two little half-bloods, I _will_ track you down in Elysium” Megaera said. He knew without a doubt that it was no empty threat. He also knew she was implying he’d probably be dead soon anyway.

“Yes ma’am.” Percy did his absolute best not to shake but did feel his blood freeze over.

“Good, we’re understood here then.”

And then she disappeared into puff of black smoke.

Percy wheezed and fell half over, hands on his knees, cursing and swearing to get the worst of the terror out of his heart.

Zagreus stared down at him, blinking.

“Don’t worry, she’s not that bad once you get to know her” Zagreus offered, unhelpfully.

ANNABETH

They rested for a few moments more. Percy looked like he saw a ghost, but she wasn’t sure if she should ask right in front of Zagreus. But she _had_ been thinking of something before she’d passed out.

“Alright, so our next stop is Elysium. It might be a little dicey, but we’ll be out of here in no time” Zagreus said, radiating confidence as he planted his fists on his hips.

They couldn’t just walk out the supposed exit Zagreus spoke off—and she knew they were getting closer, which presented an issue. Zagreus was guiding them towards an exit they couldn’t use.

“Prince, before we go—we sort of need to discuss something” she said, scratching the back of her head, shaking out some ash.

Percy looked at her, searching her face for a moment.

Zagreus tilted his head. “Of course, go ahead.”

Annabeth stood up, folding her arms, trying to think about her phrasing.

“Well, you see one of the things about being here is that we need to stop Gaia’s forces from leaving the Underworld like they are right now—through the Doors of Death” she explained.

“Oh, right, Than’s gate…” Zagreus said, enthusiasm dimmed.

_Than_ … Thanatos? Gods on high. Just how many creepy gods was this guy friends with?

“You know about it?” she asked, stopping to turn and face him.

Zagreus looked pensive, holding his chin with one hand. “Here might not be the best place to discuss this… but yes. Let’s get to Elysium and then we can talk more.”

She watched him look off into the middle-distance, watching the machinery roar in a dull and distant manner. For the short time they’d known each other, she’d gotten the sense Prince Zagreus was quite genuine and earnest, but in that moment, he seemed clouded, guarded maybe.

Whatever it was bothering him, it did put a pin in their conversation. So, they continued away from the dim glow of Asphodel to a large gateway. Stepping across a threshold, a big door suddenly closed behind them with the sigil of Hades carved into it. Zagreus didn’t seem concerned, so she just tried to calm her quivering heart as she felt the floor move underneath them.

Ah, it was an _elevator_. She was surprised to hear it play light music.

“So, who was that you—summoned?” she asked in some attempt to pass the time.

“Megaera, the Fury. She’s a—good friend” Zagreus said, and if Annabeth didn’t know any better, his pale cheeks turned pink for a second.

Annabeth felt the air leave her lungs—oh, he’s good friend with a Fury… great… and Death himself. Of course.

“She’s definitely very interesting” Percy said, raising his eyebrows.

Zagreus laughed. “Don’t worry, Meg’s just looking out for me, but I can deal with my father.”

“Your father, Lord Hades, uh… what’s he like?” Percy asked, clearly trying to make small talk, and perhaps just curious to get a different opinion, since, well, all their interactions with the Lord of the Dead had been, at best, lukewarm.

“Hm… well, he’s short tempered, demanding, but… honest, I suppose. Can’t say I have the most affection for him, but I do appreciate the work he does… why do you ask?” he said, tilting his head. The song switched over to some jaunty country tune.

“Well, we don’t really get that many chances to speak to the gods, so I guess we have a very different, er, perspective on what they’re like” Annabeth said.

Huh… honest. An interesting descriptor, for sure.

“What about you then, hm? What do you both think of your parents?” Zagreus asked, folding his arms.

Woof. Annabeth felt like the wind just got taken out her sails, although she supposed it was only fair given that they’d asked him.

“It’s… complicated. I guess, I just wish I knew her more, but I do love her, and she does care about me” she said.

“Yeah, the gods didn’t really stay in our lives much” Percy said, frowning.

“Complicated, huh… seems to be a theme between all of us” Zagreus said, surprisingly profound.

What _would_ it like to be the son of the two gods of the Underworld? Stressful, probably.

More silence.

“So… when Nico was here, what’d you guys do?” Annabeth asked.

“Oh, you know, just some games on the entertainment table, showed him some sights. He mostly seemed to be off on his own though, or spending time with our father” Zagreus said, oddly… toneless.

_More_ silence, although Percy whistled this time.

“Hm… you know, the more I talk to you two, the more I feel like I’ve heard your names before.”

Ah, shit. Nice going. Now Zagreus was going to suddenly remember, hey, aren’t you two the kids that talked back to the God of the Dead and got accused of stealing his hat? Oh, and one of them fought your cousin Ares. Actually, there was a lot of stuff she really hoped Zagreus would not suddenly remember.

Annabeth thought a moment—Zagreus was probably “at work” hence why no one had seen him while they’d been to the Underworld, although she did wonder why he didn’t come fight the Titans.

There was a beat where he stared between them both, with that blood red eye that made her uneasy. But then, Zagreus just shrugged.

More silence—or rather, more elevator music—passed until there was a bell-toll and the elevator stopped. The gate opened and there was a rush of cool air that smelled of—flowers?

Stepping out into the light of Ixion, everything was graced with a teal hue—marble floors covered in lush plants, scattered giant swords and arrows and shields in the rolling fields. Statues of warriors on horses, all made from gold and bronze and some blue metal she didn’t recognize. Blue shades in dainty clothes stood around, exchanging quiet conversation. The white river Lethe traced nearby, gurgling quietly. It made her nervous to be so close to it.

Zagreus motioned them onwards and the trio began marching to the first set of doors—what looked like two massive shields with spear tips.

However, she couldn’t help but walk towards the small pavilion that overlooked the blue valleys—she could see lavish houses in the distance of various architectural styles and eras.

Annabeth suddenly felt—strangely at peace. Knowing what her afterlife would maybe look like—even if she hoped she wouldn’t be there to find it soon.

There was warmth at her side as Percy joined her, looping his arm around hers. “Not bad, huh?” he said, smile tinged with exhaustion—but, happy too, or as close to happy as one could be in their situation.

Yeah, it _was_ nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Love Meg SO much, however her only interaction with Percy is him calling Hades a bitch and breaking into/out of his house soooo (although she's pretty cool about it).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three make their way through Elysium.

PERCY

Alright. Elysium sucked.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair judgement to make seeing as they were bandying about with the god whose job was to test all these shades, but he was getting really tired of being chased by dead people.

A Bright sword took a swing at his head. Percy ducked, then kicked the guy in the gut. It didn’t feel quite the same as kicking a person, less resistance. Ten or so feet away, he saw Annabeth flying kick a Greatshield in the head after he’d slammed his shield into the ground.

“Percy! Don’t forget about the—” Annabeth shouted, gesturing behind him.

Oh, yeah, because of course nothing could be easy, they weren’t dead after the first time. Or dead again? Dispersed? Whatever, anyway he had to sprint after a weird little ghostly eye-orb that was starting to rematerialize.

Despite his complaining however, the fight was soon over.

Percy and Annabeth immediately collapsed onto the ground. He felt a bit pathetic—this was now the third time—but despite the cooler damp air, it still appeared that the Underworld did not much care for two living mortals—demigod or not.

Zagreus stood by attentively, however, despite the fact Percy could see him bouncing his leg and tapping his foot and looking around for something to get his attention. It never occurred to him that gods could probably have a touch of ADHD as well. Zagreus, was, after all, the least godly god he’d ever met.

But he was more concerned with regaining control of his breath and getting the spots out of his vision. At least here, sweating seemed to actually work, as opposed to Asphodel where it just made his cuts sting.

Zagreus eventually wandered off towards a mysterious... hole in the floor. It looked like a mirror into space, somehow—stars and swirling darkness.

“Hm… I suppose I could ask Master Chaos to plant me back here. If not, I’ll just back track back to you two—you should be safe here” the Prince explained, although he wasn’t looking at either him or Annabeth.

Master Chaos? Gods on high. He’d stop being surprised by all the powerful beings Prince Zagreus was on good terms with some time, but that time was not now.

So, Zagreus hopped right into the spooky, star scattered smoky gate in the floor and disappeared.

Annabeth shifted closer to him, so she leaned on his shoulder. For a while, it just felt good to have a nice rest—he could still hear the Lethe burbling not so far away, and some distant sounds of a—crowd? But he wasn’t concerned, really. The shades would probably pay them no mind.

“So, what’re we going to tell him exactly?” he asked, glancing to his side.

Annabeth puffed air out of her mouth, like a fast sigh. “Well, we’re going to have to tell him we _need_ to free the Doors of Death. As much as I’d like to walk out of here, if the others show up at the doors and there’s no one on the other side, we’re screwed.”

Percy remembered Megaera’s warning to him.

“Hey, Annabeth, there’s something I need to tell you—the Fury from before… she mentioned that Zagreus was sticking his neck out for us. I think we need to tell him, like, now” he said, thinking back on the cold glare of the Fury.

Annabeth turned his head, eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah… I’d rather not piss off every god in the underworld by getting their Prince in some kind of trouble with his dad.”

Percy thought quietly for a moment. It was interesting—Elysium didn’t really smell like anything except dew.

“Do you think we can find the Doors from here?” she asked, holding his hand.

Percy sighed, grimacing, then thought. “Well, we’re at the highest point of the Underworld, right—or, second highest? Maybe if we got a good vantage point, we could see it from here.”

Annabeth considered for a moment. “Well, either way, we’ll have to tell him.”

Percy laughed, just a little bit, at the irony. “I’m going to miss our escort. For as much as I hate fighting the Exalted, at least it’s better than fighting Kelli and company.”

He watched Annabeth smile a little, grey eyes looking warm and less tired—then, sad again.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I guess—maybe it’s the Cocytus still getting to me, but… there are just, people we probably know here, you know?”

Percy did feel a dull pain in his chest. He could see so many faces flashing across his mind—sometimes last goodbyes he didn’t realize were at the time, sometimes last stands at his side, plenty of people he just wanted to say sorry to.

And it dawned upon them that he wasn’t ready to see any of them yet. Was—Luke here? Probably not anymore, but there was something in him that desperately hoped he was, so that they could talk just one more time.

“Oof, sorry Seaweed brain, didn’t mean to bring the mood down” Annabeth said, voice playful but he could see her eyes were a little wet.

Percy laughs, a little tired and a little sad.

ZAGREUS

“Greeting Master Chaos” he spoke—trying to sound casual.

“Greets son of Hades. I sense there is something amiss in your father’s residence. Respond.” Chaos commanded in their calm manner, cacophonous voice reverberating throughout the cosmos.

Well, so much for casual.

“Amiss is one way of putting it… I found two living mortals running around half-dead in Tartarus, I’m bringing them to the surface” he explained.

He never got quite used to being considered by such an enormous presence. Though he could only vaguely view Master Chaos’s massive terrifying form, their detached gaze down upon him made him squirm just a bit. He felt quite certain, of course, Master Chaos would never harm him outside the toll required for their boons, he also didn’t exactly want to upset the creator of everything.

“I see… I appreciate your honesty, O Son of Hades. And it should be quite interesting to watch how this path you’ve chosen unfolds.”

Zagreus selected his curse from Master Chaos but paused.

“Master Chaos, if I may ask… I know normally you send me to a new area of the Underworld, but the mortals are not faring particularly well, so if you could… send me back the way I came?” he asked, wincing just a touch, really hoping he was not overstepping some boundary they’d set unspoken.

“Hmm, for all our exchanges, I do not believe you have ever asked such a thing of me… how unexpected. I do sense the dim flame of their lives, and I also expect they will surely die without aid. So, I will do as you ask this once.”

Oh gods, Zagreus understood why Chaos never sent him back up. Usually going to the gates was—unpleasant (especially at first), dizzying, but this made him downright ill as he felt himself flying backwards and then out of the gate and butt first onto the grassy meadows of Elysium.

“Thanks!” he called as his vision refocused.

“Certainly.” Chaos answered, then the gate closed.

Zagreus stood up, patting down his clothes and turned to where he’d left the two, now fast asleep. Were they not actively dying, Zagreus would leave them to it—he wanted to, in fact. In their sleep, they looked so young still. Zagreus knew he wasn’t really one to talk within that regard, given his own appearance, but it was different with mortals.

It reminded him a bit if Nico—fitfully peaceful, it seemed.

So, he knelt down to shake them both awake and realizes, upon touching Annabeth’s shoulder, that she’s just a little cold. Alive, still, yes, but it sends a shock through the Prince, so much so that he shakes both her and Percy with a little more force than was probably necessary.

They woke up quickly at least.

“Prince—is here a good spot to talk?” Annabeth asked, folding her hands in her lap.

Zagreus thought for a moment. He wanted to rush them along, but it was clear from her and Percy’s pensive expressions that they needed to tell him something urgently. But he tried not to let his fears show—he was pretty sure they didn’t need him to tell them they weren’t doing well.

“Prince—we can’t leave with you” she said, sitting up straighter, jaw set. It reminded him of his own early attempts to show his father more mettle.

“Excuse me?” he nearly gasped. Not offended—heavens, no—but just—they were in no shape to—

“There are people who need us on the other side of the Doors of Death—if they’re not closed from both sides, Gaia’s forces will be able to keep them pinned down, and it’ll be for nothing” she explained.

Good gods… demigods, huh. He had already gotten the sense from their long and winding tale they’d spun to Orpheus and Eurydice that they had already packed their short lives full of heroism and service, often at great personal expense.

And now they were going to rush off to do it again. It seemed so unfair.

“Hey, wait now—I can’t just let you two wander off to some dark and dangerous corner of Tartarus. If monsters are using the Doors, that would imply there’s a great mass of them waiting at the gates, and presumably not going to invite you two in to thwart their plans” he said, eyebrows furrowing.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged looks again—a little sad smile, a knowing smile. Exhaustion gave way to _‘Yeah, we know’_ but Percy suddenly looked serious, like he was recalling something.

“Megaera said you were sticking your neck out for us already, just by getting us this far” Percy said. “We can’t let the Prince of the Underworld get in trouble just for our sakes.”

_Oh, Meg_ , he thought, letting out a deep sigh.

Zagreus ran his hand back through his hair. Both of them—stubborn. Expected, given who their parents were. Zagreus was one to talk anyway.

It was the first time in a while he’d felt his title given any sort of reverence. Funny, for two mortals who had never heard of him. Even Nico had not told them about him. And yet.

“Well… let me think about it. At least get the two of you the edge of Elysium—if all goes well, I can get you a bottle of Ambrosia to go, and a weapon, perhaps” Zagreus said, trying to be so infectiously optimistic they’d change their minds.

And buy him some time to think of alternatives to just throwing them to the wolves. Because, for as Zagreus would like to help Than, he was just one god, who was explicitly forbidden from running off to get killed repeatedly or captured by monsters.

Especially after Than’s own captivity… it may not have been the first time he’d been, er, captured (sorry Sisyphus), but it was clear he was still rattled. But, for as willing as Zagreus was often first to disregard his father’s commands, and even quicker to help a friend, the graveness in his Lord Father’s voice with regards to the gathering forces in their realm even chilled _his_ fervor.

But it still just felt so wrong to send two children off to their deaths.

ANNABETH

There was a notable difference in the Prince’s demeanor as they resumed their journey. He seemed more pensive, almost tense, and she could see his eyes flash back to the two of them more often.

Was it… concern? It seemed so weird, for a god—a god who was not her parent, no less—to be concerned about her. Most gods regarded demigods with a sort of hands-off-edness even after the whole deal in Manhattan.

But her musing paused as the next fight resumed—the possibility of an actual weapon was very exciting given she’d spent most of the previous instances kicking and punching Exalted and occasionally getting tossed the Prince’s very nice spear, before it got taken away again.

She had to say, fighting the heroes of age’s past was not something she anticipated when she tumbled headlong into Tartarus, but she supposed it was better than getting eaten by a drakon or some other monster she’d previously fought that now had a grudge against her. It was also funny, because sometimes they realized halfway through that they were fighting (maybe other) demigods and stopped to stare in astonishment at her and Percy before getting stabbed by the Prince.

It was a few of these rooms later that Zagreus paused after opening the next gate, looking back at them.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, trying to look past him.

“Well… no, there shouldn’t be, anyway, although maybe we can get something to help you two feel a bit better” Zagreus said, raising an eyebrow.

“If you’re about to offer a gyro Charon has mysteriously manufactured, I’ll pass” Percy said, smirking a bit.

It made Zagreus laugh.

He waved them onwards and out into a different room. She could hear a light conversation, but mainly the sound of the Lethe rushing down a waterfall. A small bridge connected them to another side, where she saw two figures in ancient Greek armor standing side by side.

“Hello stra—what on _Earth_ ” one man said, brown eyes getting big as he peered behind his blonde companion, who turned to look at them with a similarly surprised face.

“Hi sirs, pay them no mind. Just escorting two demigods back to the surface” Zagreus said. She watched him take a step, as if to hide them behind her.

“Lad…” the other man said softly, loose blonde hair falling forward, eyebrows furrowing, “you know your father isn’t going to be happy once you show up at Styx with those two in tow.”

Zagreus shrugged. “What’ll he do? send me to my chambers so I can skip out on work?”

The two warriors exchanged worried glances despite the Prince’s best effort at lightening the mood. She could sense the Prince was quite confident but seemed more confident in himself as opposed to confidence that there’d be no punishment in store.

“Lad, Pat and I have been discussing this, but maybe you should put a pause on your operations for the time being” the other one—blonde hair, soft expression—said, stepping forward to put a hand on Zagreus’s shoulder.

Zagreus waved him off, though Annabeth could see him straighten up a bit.

“It’s fine, really, he knows who I am… most of the time, not to mention then I couldn’t see the two of you as much” Zagreus said, friendly and bright. “I promise, Achilles. Next time you’ll see me at the house, and I’ll be just fine.”

_Achilles?!_ And, presumably, Pat was short for _Patroclus_. Annabeth was starting to feel like she was losing it. You know, no big deal, being in the presence of two of the greatest (and very tragic) figures of Greek mythos. Just very casually expressing concern for the Prince’s wellbeing, you know. Talking to him in a rather paternalistic manner. Naturally.

Were the situation not so dire, and Annabeth still quite dubious about their chances of success, she would consider committing these details to memory to tell the others.

Annabeth vaguely recalled Percy having—not really met persay but had a vision of Achilles when he’d dipped into the Styx before their battle with Kronos, but she hardly believed that she’d ever, like, meet either of them.

She could see Patroclus and Achilles studying her and Percy, looking profound and a little sad.

“Why don’t you two sit here for a bit? Hm? Get some rest?” Achilles invited, with a look to Patroclus like _let’s find out what’s going on here._

He sounded too nice to be a man responsible for so much death. And his face—lines of fatigue upon an otherwise younger expression. Patroclus behind him was much the same—a lasting sadness imbedded in the age at which he died at, even if it had mostly left him now. They moved with a sense of levity and yet it seemed like she and Percy had opened some old wounds.

And so, she and Percy sat besides the two fallen warriors alongside Zagreus and explained their situation again. Each time didn’t seem easier—she always felt her heart in her throat once they got to the part before they’d fallen in. The victory she’d just clawed from the jaws of defeat, only to get dragged into hell and dragging Percy in with her.

“Oh my…. Life is never easy for anyone involved with the gods’ affairs, much less their children…” Achilles said, lamenting.

Patroclus looked between her and Percy, looking apologetic somehow, stroking his beard. He looked from the corner of eyes to Achilles, then closed them.

“Yeahhh you could say that twice” Percy said, smiling in a strained manner. Annabeth smiled too—because it felt like she needed to, for her own sake.

Patroclus’s eyebrows knit together, giving a small smile. “It’s okay, you can be upset about it here, stranger.”

Annabeth felt—not a chill, but there was suddenly something in her that she realized she’d been clinging to, keeping together. There was no time to be upset about it before—or, not even no time, but no—they had both desperately been trying to keep it together for the other, because if they broke down, they’d both break down, and they’d never be able to escape if that happened.

But now, she was given the permission she had not been able to give herself—and so, she wept, for the first time in a while, maybe since they’d started falling and she’d been certain she would die. And Percy cried too, and it made her feel slightly embarrassed, weeping in front of two men she’d really only heard legends of, and a strange god of blood she barely knew, but she felt—encouraged to, maybe.

And after a good, solid cry, she felt better, lighter, which surprised her.

“There you go. Now, I have something here that might be of aid to you…” Patroclus said, then produce from somewhere behind his blue cloak two small—they almost looked like squeeze drinks, like a juice pouch but made from solid grey metal. “Drink these, they should renew your strength for some time at least.”

Achilles then stood. “I can take you two to the stands of the stadium as well, so you two aren’t in the ring. Afterwards, you’ll be able to slip in and out with Zagreus.”

Annabeth held the stygian capri-sun in her hand for a moment. “Thank you—both, so much, sirs” she said.

“If… we ever make it back to Elysium, we’ll find a way to thank you both” Percy said.

Patroclus and Achilles both held worn smiles, but warmer now instead of with pity. Zagreus waved them both goodbye, temporarily, hanging back with Patroclus whilst she and Percy were led down to a gate by Achilles. As they walked, she opened the mystery drink and sipped from it—it was strangely tangy? She wasn’t sure how else to describe it. Minty?

They walked along a path by the river for a time, in silence—partially, because she and Percy were busy sipping down the mystery liquid, that did have a way of warming her. But she was still curious of the one they were following—she couldn’t really get a read on Achilles from his back. He didn’t seem particularly tense at first glance.

Maybe being already dead meant you didn’t have much to worry about.

They turned a corner up a set of stairs into a very different looking place in Elysium—much more homely. Stately houses and entertainment venues in a small section, mainly Greek in style. She could see more shades as they walked, turning up their heads to stare.

“Pay no mind to them” Achilles said, softly.

Annabeth kept her gaze right straight forward, then.

“Thank you again, Achilles sir” she said.

He answered simply, “Of course. Prince Zagreus has a good eye for people, I’ve found,” but there was something unsaid left in there.

She wasn’t really sure what to think about that.

A few more moments passed before words were exchanged once more.

“Achilles sir… you were there to warn me when I jumped into the Styx” Percy said, quietly.

Achilles stopped. She could see him frown—not angry, but with a sort of vacant look.

“Yes, I did. Did you get what it was you were seeking?” he asked, looking thoughtful as he held his spear.

“Yes… unfortunately” Percy said.

Annabeth held his hand tight.

“Aye. I’m glad you took heed of my warning then.”

PERCY

It was a mainly silent walk to the arena afterwards—giving Percy too much time to think.

He’d gotten the invulnerability of Styx washed off a long time ago, but it was suddenly that the same spot on his lower back felt weird and uniquely sensitive all over again. He also just felt, for lack of a better word, weird to follow Achilles through the halls of Elysium.

He’s—much different, to say the least. Maybe something about the Styx had messed with his vision, because Achilles had long wavy blonde hair and lacked a scar—but he did recognize Percy, so they were definitely the same person. Either way, it felt awkward. And he also felt a little guilty, somehow.

“Achilles sir, if I may—Zagreus didn’t have time to explain, I think, but, we need to get to the Doors of Death. Do you have any idea of how to get there?” he asked, tentative.

Achilles stopped and turned around, grimacing at them with wide blue eyes. “Gods on high you two—you _can’t_ go there” he said, sounding more like a commander—an exasperated one at that.

Annabeth, standing at Percy’s side, spoke first with urgency, “Sir, we need to. Our friends are going to be fighting at the other side—if we’re not there—”

“—if they’re not there they could die for nothing” Percy said, trying not to stumble over his words as his worst fears spilled out.

Achilles stared down at them both, tightly gripping his spear with both hands, eyebrows furrowed and mouth forming a tight thin line.

“You two… I won’t pretend that both of you haven’t done amazing things already, but you’re in no condition to fight an army of monsters”.

“We don’t have a choice!” Percy said, finding himself suddenly boiling hot with frustration, “no one else is going to help us!”  
Achilles pulled back, as though Percy just breathed fire at him. He suddenly felt bad—Achilles was doing them a favor, after all. He shouldn’t have shouted. He’d surprised himself with how angry he’d gotten.

“Sorry, sir” he said, quietly, hanging his head. He felt Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder, her exhaustion seeping into him.

“I—no, you’re right to feel angry… it often times feels so cruel, how the gods will enter and exit our lives, often times causing more trouble than helping… I wish there was something more I could do for you both.” Achilles said, glancing away, then let a great big sigh out.

“Listen—I want you to know, if the prince could, he would do much more than walk you out, but unfortunately he and many others at the House have been put on a tighter leash as of late…” he continued.

Percy looked to Annabeth. Achilles might be somewhat understanding—given his own history with rather fraught wars.

“Achilles sir—the reason why Lord Hades hasn’t been acting like himself, perhaps, is because there’s an oncoming war on the surface” Annabeth said.

Achilles just looked _so_ tired for a second, almost like he’d groan, but kept it to himself for the brief moment exhaustion filled his eyes. Then, he looked curious. “What sort of war?”

“Just a war between the Greeks and Romans… part two, I suppose. It’s causing many of the gods a lot of confusion.” Percy said, light tone of mirth slipping out, despite the gravity—although, he did remember Patroclus’s statement previously.

Achilles’ eyebrows raised. “Ah, yes, I recall… it’s been quite some time since a similar occasion occurred—although, I was of the mind that the Greeks and Roman states were destroyed… a while ago, at that.”

“Uh, well, about that” Annabeth said, grimacing.

“To make a long story short, there are some descendants who are about to fight, and it won’t be pretty” Percy explained.

Achilles tapped his chin with his forefinger. “I see—or, at least I think I understand. Hm, well if that’s the case… I suppose it’s important to return you two to the surface quickly then. To reunite with your side of the war.”

“Sort of—our friends are actually both Greek and Roman, we’re hoping to be able to help stop the war before it comes to a head, but there’s not much time. But, well, we can’t do that…” he said.

“…without the Doors being closed. Seems like it’s quite a mess then. Well—I… You know, I’ll see if there’s anything that can be done” Achilles said. For some reason, Percy trusted his word instantly.

Annabeth suddenly jumped, “Wait, Achilles—is there anywhere around here I could find—a shrine? Or temple? Somewhere to make an offering?”

Achilles blinked, “I—yes, there’s a temple of Hermes that fell in some time ago nearby—why?”

“I—we need to get Rachel to Reyna” Annabeth said quickly.

So, they zipped off, walking quickly through crowds of shades until they arrived upon a busy temple. Annabeth squeezed her way through the crowd with Percy trailing behind and Achilles further behind apologizing lightly. As they arrived, Percy was surprised to see the shrine’s basin did not just have the effects of shades but other things—a bag of peanut M&Ms, a whole pizza, and a scattering of other, definitely mortal things.

“Yes!” Annabeth said, sounding much too energetic, before taking the greasy napkin from the pizza’s box.

“Percy—hand me Riptide” she asked, holding her hand out.

“I—sure?” Percy said, handing over the pen.

First, she fiddled with it—as it uncapped, out came the glowing bronze sword, which elicited some gasps from shades. She tried the same thing a few times, to cap it and uncap it, then with another burst of inspiration, she put the cap on the pommel of the swords, and Riptide turned into an actual writing instrument.

She scribbled out quickly on the greasy napkin and grabbed a torch from the sconce on the wall, then lit it on fire.

“What was—that about?” he asked, watching the napkin burst into flames.

“I’m hoping that if I burn an offering to Hermes in Elysium, it’ll show back up at Camp Half-Blood where it came from—Rachel needs to get to Reyna and tell her what’s going on” Annabeth said, staring into the flame and handing Percy his sword back.

“Annabeth, I love you” Percy said, almost giddily. What could he say, Annabeth was one of the smartest, coolest people he knew, and she was his girlfriend—no one else could have come up with that.

Annabeth scoffed but accepted the big hug he’d prepared.

He heard Achilles laughing softly behind them.

ANNABETH

Achilles guided them the rest of the way to a large colosseum, already packed with spectators. They shuffled through the ground, getting more stares, but Achilles merely smiled and waved which seemed to do the trick.

“Did you reserve a seat?” a blue cloaked shade asked. The attendant to their left immediately struck them with an elbow.

“You idiot, that’s Sir Achilles” the other, slightly tealer shade spat. The first shade looked mortified—well, as mortified as one could look for being already dead.

“No trouble at all, allow me and my companions in is all” Achilles said, eyes crinkling.

“yes—of course, right away sir, here are your seats!” the shade yelped, scrambling through the ticker, and producing three slips of paper which Achilles doled out—upon touching her hand, she realized it was semi-transparent.

Achilles had a slight, almost mischievous smile as they got let through. He also noticed her watching and looked a bit bashful.

“Ah—I don’t often use my station in such a manner, but for the Prince” he explained, looking away.

“Of course, sir” she said, suppressing the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

It got her a soft laugh from Achilles. Percy scoffed playfully.

They filed through the rows of the massive stadium, parting between shades until finally finding their seat near the presumed exit. In the arena proper were several giant goblet looking things, some red and some blue. The red held flowers, whilst the blue held shades—presumably very important people who wanted to get as close to the action as possible. The arena floor was marvelously decorated if not a little scratched by the presumably efforts of the undead competitors. Red and white flowers scattered all throughout.

The center laid empty for the time being, but she could detect great anticipation and excitement from the crowd as shades all but vibrated out of their seats.

Achilles’s however, frowned.

“What’s wrong, sir?” she asked, raising her voice over the dull roar of the crowd.

Achilles’s sighed, folding his arms and sulking—more a frown of distaste as opposed to his earlier, sadder expression. He groaned. “There is a reason I rarely journey here. I’m not one for loud-mouthed boasting, and…”

She saw two figures emerge from a side entrance. Annabeth gasps as she saw two rouged horns pointed into the sky first appeared.

“…there’s quite a bit of that here.”

Almost bursting out of the darkness came a man about as tall as Zagreus, by her measure. He had dark skin and short cropped blonde hair. Blue laurels rested on his head. Joining him was—the _Minotaur_?!

Her mind spun—he was dressed in a chiton, with a giant axe by his side, and blue laurels rested on his head. His black mane had been styled. He looked absolutely nothing like—what in gods’ names—where? Was she losing it? But looking at Achilles, who just looked bored, and Percy, who also seemed awash in disbelief, she knew she wasn’t imagining it.

Annabeth stared dumbly forward.

“Greetings, good shades of Elysium!” the man said, holding his pink spear aloft.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, loud enough she could feel it in her chest.

Oh, _gods_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achilles and Patroclus @ Percy and Annabeth: oh my god those are children. who let these children loose. prince zagreus what the fuck.
> 
> It's incredibly funny that the older I get the more I'm like oh my god who let these 17 yr olds hold the fate of the world in their hands whereas when I was a Childe reading these books I was like "well that seems reasonable i guess."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus fights the Champions of Elysium, Percy and Annabeth hope he doesn't die.

ZAGREUS

He watched Achilles, Annabeth and Percy depart, studying them as they walked away—they looked so small next to Achilles, not that that was saying much given Achilles was even taller than himself. Zagreus had not once forgotten they were both children, but somehow standing next to a once living mortal (mostly, anyway) man was—well.

It just seemed terribly unfair. At least Achilles and Patroclus had been—you know, adults.

“You’ve gotten yourself quite deep in” Patroclus said, simply.

Zagreus sighed. Yeah, although he didn’t want to admit it out loud, so he just shrugged. But he knew—the motion was too quick, too tense, did not elicit the sense of ease he had hoped.

Patroclus scoffed. There was, of course, no bullshitting Patroclus, especially not with such a flub.

“If I may, stranger… you look more fatigued than usual.”

Patroclus seemed like he wanted to say more but paused and waited for permission, giving him a wary glance before he continued speaking. But Zagreus could not stand to know what advice he might give—he just couldn’t bear it.

He knew he could feel blood making his chiton stick to his skin.

“Patroclus, how long have we known each other?”

Patroclus looked a bit surprised, eyebrows raising—not offended, not angry. Zagreus didn’t like to interrupt people—but.

“Quite some time indeed” Patroclus answered.

More silence. The Lethe reverberated quietly, its white waters churning, their reflections distorted in its cloud-like surface.

“In all this time, I’ve met many brave people—like yourself, and like Achilles. But like you, they were already dead, long before I met them” he said, quiet.

He could feel Patroclus’s cool gaze studying him. Not in a cold, calculating way, but more so with a sense of familiarity and curiosity—but, concern too.

“I think, just once, I would like to help someone before they die” Zagreus said, finally.

Patroclus merely nodded. There was nothing else to say.

Zagreus stood still for a moment—it made him uneasy, he hated to stand still, but he needed a moment to meditate on just what it was he would do. With his hands tied, it felt pointless, but he simply could not accept that.

“Not to distract you, but I gave away all the Hydralite I had, sorry” Patroclus murmured, scratching his forehead, finally breaking the tension.

Zagreus burst out laughing.

It was soon after that the Prince departed, waving Patroclus goodbye. He suddenly felt energized—not the sort of capricious excitement that came from making his father’s life that much harder, but he moved with purpose.

He almost wanted to say ‘ _I’ve got no time for you’_ as he rushed from one end of a chamber to the next, but of course there was no way the shades would listen to him. It was the first time in a while he felt a sense of true need to get to the arena of Elysium as fast as possible, even with only a half-formed plan in mind. He wasn’t even really be bothered that his carelessness had garnered him some fresh wounds—he knew he could make it, because he had to.

Just like old times. Or, as Meg might say it, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

PERCY

“What is the Bull of Minos doing in Elysium?” he asked, trying to not sound too startled for fear the creature could smell his anxiety.

“King Theseus vouched for him before Lord Hades” Achilles said, like it was simple.

He and Annabeth exchanged baffled expressions, Percy hoping he wasn’t going crazy. At least, Achilles looked ready to explain why the person whose great legend involved slaying the monster in the labyrinth asked him to pal around with him in the Greek glorious afterlife.

“Asterius is no danger, here, or—at least, no danger to anyone outside the ring” he said, voice assuring with its soft confidence.

Percy had to say—looking down on the Bull of Minos—who he had never considered ever having a name—for as distant as they were, he looked very different from their previous encounter. Not blind with rage, instead he stood, solemn and stoic with his dark eyes and long bovine eyelashes. And wearing clothes this time.

He desperately hoped and prayed that the bull would not gaze up into the crowd and see them, because having both stabbed him with his own horn and then later tossed him off a bridge, well—he did not imagine there was much fondness of the Minotaur’s heart for a certain demigod.

“Mhm, great” Percy said, weakly.

It appeared the Fates had a sense of humor, because it seemed by recalling the event, he’d somehow caught the Bull’s attention. He saw his ear switch, and puff air out his nose. Percy supposed that well, they must have stuck out, being alive (if only somewhat.)

“What is it my dear friend?” Theseus asked—though his voice lost none of his… _flourish_ … he did speak just a bit softer for a second.

Asterius merely turned his head to face in their direction. Theseus looked puzzled for a moment, then in an oddly dainty move just patted him reassuringly on the bicep as if to soothe him somewhat. Percy could see them whispering—or, Asterius whispering and Theseus trying to.

Annabeth tugged on his half-ripped sleeve. “Uh, Percy, everyone’s looking at us.”

Achilles, who had set his spear to his side, brought it into his hand again. While Percy had no doubts in his martial prowess, he did not believe he alone could fend off the whole crowd—then again, one would be hard pressed to find many people (alive or dead) willing to try.

“You there!” Theseus demanded, voice charging through the air. He might as well pointed a spotlight on him.

Percy cursed under his breath, “Who, me?” he asked, desperately hoping that the seat would swallow him up, or maybe he’d sound dumb enough to dismiss any concerns.

“Yes—you and your friend there—what’re your names?” Theseus said, sounding neither angry or otherwise upset, but curious.

He could lie—should they lie? Would that even matter?

“Uh—Percy?”

“Annabeth” Annabeth said, squinting at Percy. Hm. Maybe he should have lied.

“Well, Uh-Percy and Annabeth, just what in the blazes are two living mortals doing here?” he barked, handing off his spear to the Bull to plant a hand on his hip.

“Uhh… tourism?” Percy produced.

He saw Annabeth throw her head into her hands, and Achilles much the same, putting his hand up to his forehead. Now, he wasn’t dumb, but what exactly was he going to say?

Feeling his blood freeze solid, Percy waited for something to happen. He really didn’t like how Asterius was looking at him. There was _definitely_ some left-over animosity there, but despite the murderous intent boiling under the surface and making the Bull’s muscles tense, he stayed right where he was.

“I… well” Theseus said, clearly stumped. “And for what purpose?”

“Furthering our… education, and love of history” Annabeth said—thankfully, saving Percy and his big dumb mouth.

“It’s not every day you get to meet the King of Athens and the Bull of Minos” Percy explained. For better or worse, he made eye contact with Asterius whose ear flicked again.

Theseus planted his hands on his hips. “Ah, hoho, today’s youths are certainly of great intrigue. Well then!” he announced, “Asterius and I will surely put on a good showing. After we win, I would like very much to hear about your interest!”

Percy clenched his teeth, just nodding, since he was fairly certain if any sound came out of his mouth it’d be in some flavor of terror, or his voice would crack like he was fourteen again. He desperately prayed that somehow Theseus, and more importantly, Asterius, would forget about him and Annabeth.

Despite some more scrutinizing from the King, he reassumed his previous position in the center of the ring.

It seemed, despite the awkward beat, and the lasting attention pointed his and Annabeth’s way, none of the crowd’s enthusiasm had died down in the interim. It did make him wonder what it was that could be so exciting—Elysium had doubtless many other arenas and stadiums, perhaps also probably packed and illustrious, but it was not just any stadium that had the King of Athens and—the Minotaur—as its champions.

Who could the other contestant be, Percy wondered. Achilles said that Zagreus would come there to meet them, and they’d slip out—but the Prince was no where to the see in the stands—although _maybe_ —

And then the gate open, and out came… Prince Zagreus.

“ _Ohhhh_ ” Percy said, letting the astonishment show on his face.

Zagreus stopped about ten or so feet away from the King and Bull, retrieving his spear from whatever unknown pocket dimension it went to when he put it away.

“Hi Asterius, how are you feeling?” Zagreus asked, casually (of course.)

Asterius let out a lumbering sound. “Much better, lately. Thank you for asking, Short-one.”

“Yes, as you can see blackguard, my dear friend Asterius here has recovered quite splendidly from the accursed spell you cast on him” Theseus spat, face screwing up with disgust.

“I— _me_? Come now king you don’t really think I’d send Asterius who knows where just to beat you in a match. I don’t need help to defeat you.”

Theseus scoffed loudly, clearly projecting his voice so the whole stadium could hear. Although, it was hard to say then if he was just putting on a show with his distaste for the Prince.

“Come now Asterius, let us hear no more of this fiend’s honeyed words!” he said, reaching his hands up to cover the Bull’s ears.

“Uh, King, I really don’t think Short-one here is responsible for my previous condition” Asterius rumbled, readying his axe.

“Bah! Enough of this, to war!” Theseus shouted, readying his spear and shield and the crowd erupted into cheers again.

And so, the fight commenced. Zagreus began dashing around, mainly away from Asterius, although Percy noticed he spent a lot of time out of the center of the ring. He figured at first, it’d be the best place—more space was generally a good thing, in a fight, especially with the wide reach of Asterius’s axe—and, his notable athleticism. Despite his size, Asterius launched himself into the air, axe overhead, with great effort, and often did so in rounds of three. Quite impressive.

Percy was very glad he wasn’t fighting him again.

His attention turned to Theseus—who he’d noticed disappear behind one of the red goblets for a moment, only to watch his pink spear fly across the room a few feet or so away from the Prince’s head. Zagreus split away from the spear, and Percy expected the king to rush over to grab it—but instead, it merely flew back to the King’s hand.

Although Percy did admit, his mind was stuck on the words the combatants exchanged before they tried killing each other. _Condition_ … that must have referred to his time on the surface in Manhattan. Asterius _spoke_ —a faculty that Percy didn’t know the creature possessed in their previous encounters. He was clearly good friends with Theseus (the man who slayed him) and Prince Zagreus, for that matter.

Was it—possible, that monsters were not merely intrinsically evil, but compelled to be?

It made him a bit uneasy. Sure, most of the monsters he faced had been trying to kill him. Percy wasn’t waltzing around trying to make their lives harder perse. But, even so…

“Bullhorn!” Theseus shouted, flying through the air and—ooh, _ouch_ , colliding right straight into Zagreus, knocking him off his feet.

He heard Zagreus groan. The Prince wasn’t looking so good—sure, somehow, the questionable gyros had healed his wounds from before, and so had a brief drink from some fountains, but he’d acquired new ones, and he was never quite perfectly healed.

Some wounds he knew had been garnered on either his or Annabeth’s behalf—moments where he lent his spear or was getting them out of the way of an attack. But he’d mostly just brushed it off before—although now, he could see blood staining the Prince’s clothes.

Percy felt his fingers curl into fists.

He knew that Zagreus was a god. It’s not like he’d just keel over—right?

Percy held his breath as he watched Zagreus get chased around the ring—Asterius, sprinting full speed behind him, red pointed horns forward and down, trying to gore the Prince. Zagreus made a rough dash and nearly stumbled, only just escaping Theseus as he made a wide spin with his spear.

Zagreus banked, trying to escape the bull, but the Minotaur turned surprisingly well and avoiding colliding with the stands.

“Lad, don’t worry. The Prince will be fine” Achilles said.

Percy wanted to believe him.

ANNABETH

She really wished that the way out did not involve watching Zagreus getting chased around like a cornered fox.

It wasn’t like he was helpless—he was faster, for the most part, than Asterius, and there was a brief flash before Theseus started his rotation that Zagreus could slip out of the way from. But…

Zagreus ran in a zig-zag pattern across the main area of the arena, then banked harshly, running straight for the wall. Asterius was closing in, from the other side she could see Theseus readying another spear throw. She held her breath, and at the last second he banked suddenly—just under the point of the spear as it landed. Asterius crashed into the wall just at their feet—the force reverberated in the stands, causing shades to shout in either glee or terror (hard to say, really.)

Asterius yanked his horns free from the wall, but did not turn right around to chase Zagreus again, instead he looked up into the stands, right at her and Percy.

“You’re lucky it is the Prince in this ring, and not you two, demigods” he said—despite the softer features of his bovine head, she got the real sense those big brown cow eyes were full of anger.

“Asterius! Pay them no heed!” Theseus shouted from the other side of the stadium as he spun towards the Prince.

Asterius puffed air at them.

Annabeth was very, _very_ grateful to not be in there that moment—although that did not stop her from sticking out her tongue at the Bull with Percy as he turned around.

“What’d you two do to upset Asterius?” Achilles asked, one eyebrow raised as he turned his head to face the two.

“You know how he said something about being sent away—or his condition?” Annabeth asked. Achilles nodded.

“He got sent to the surface realm. We fought him… twice” Percy said, voice flat. Annabeth held up two fingers, for effect.

Achilles blinked twice and looked towards Asterius was a deep frown. “Huh… I did sense that something had changed within him, when he returned, but Theseus has had a certain affect on him, I’ve found.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure how comforted by that fact she felt—but it was true. Theseus had been the one to convince Asterius to leave them be—for now. She did not know if she trusted that meant he’d be able to do the same again later.

She had to say, though—Theseus and Asterius did indeed make a good team. Theseus wasn’t fast, but that didn’t matter if Asterius pinned Zagreus down by chasing him. Asterius may have lacked the defense of a shield, but with Theseus’s long range, Zagreus had to get in and out—or get skewered. If Zagreus weren’t so slippery, she’d feel like it was a lot more unfair.

Although—that didn’t mean it looked like he was moving with ease.

The bull came down with a hard earth-shattering chop, causing two waves to split away from where he’d landed. Scrambling, Zagreus leapt out of the way, right into Theseus’s waiting attack.

She felt herself nearly jolt up and out of her seat.

In slow motion, the Prince looked done for. She watched Theseus slice him right across the chest, splattering his blood and sending him flying backwards. She held her breath. This was his job—could he be killed by a shade of the Underworld just like that? Would he get dragged off stage? —her mind raced. Then, the split second ended. A beat of silence, maybe only in her head, and he seemed to somehow reverse the flow of time, landing back on his feet where he’d been struck.

Despite the shout of quite genuine shock and pain, he was back in the fray a second later, casting a electrified red shard at the Bull without a moment’s hesitation.

“What just happened?” she asked, turning to Achilles.

Achilles had gotten just a tad stiff in the spine. “It’s just a power he possesses, I suppose.”

With seemingly some renewed strength, Zagreus launched his spear across the room—it passed through Theseus’s shield, at his back for a second, before being called back. Asterius charged at his flank, but the Prince had already taken off running, turning on a dime midair to cast his bloodstone at the Bull once more.

She wasn’t sure exactly what possessed her—maybe it was just infectious, being surrounded by a crowd chanting Theseus and Asterius’s names—but regardless, Annabeth leapt to her feet and started cheering for Zagreus. She was about to feel quite self-conscious about it, until Percy joined her in chorus, and the two whistled for the Prince when he sprinted past.

As the Minotaur launched into the air, Zagreus ran underneath, spinning around to stab Asterius in the back. The Bull made a move to slash back at the Prince, but Zagreus followed the motion of his axe and swung around behind him once more.

And then, all at once, Asterius dropped to one knee, then sort of—dematerialized? It wasn’t like he’d died as a monster had—exploding into gold dust. Instead, he became transparent blue and ghostly, before his image faded.

“How dare you!” Theseus shouted.

“You next, king” Zagreus hissed back, clearly pissed.

She wasn’t quite sure what transpired but despite the fact she could feel her voice getting hoarse, she cheered along with the rest of the crowd. And although Achilles did not join them verbally, she could see a sort of quiet pride glowing in him.

With Asterius dispatched, Zagreus had much more room to avoid Theseus’s attacks. He could get behind the king’s defenses much more easily now that the Minotaur wasn’t bearing down upon him.

The shouting and chanting of the crowd turned—it was hard to make out with so many voices, but she could hear plenty of shades cheering for Zagreus.

After such and such a time of getting stabbed in the back or over the top of his shield, Theseus clearly was having enough of it, so he threw his arms skyward, spear and shield in hand, and roared a command,

“Lord Poseidon! I call upon your might!”

And then it looked like a giant wave emerged from nowhere to chase Zagreus around.

If she was glad before to not be in the arena, she was somewhere leagues above that in that second. She also felt terrible awkward as the smell of sea-salt filled the arena.

She could also see Zagreus look up once to grimace at Percy. Oops.

Regardless, despite intermittent watery explosions, Zagreus’s strategy of stabbing Theseus in the back stayed very much the same. Once the king turned around to re-situate himself for his next attack, did the Prince strike.

It looked like it’d be over soon, but not before Theseus tried one last time to get back at Zagreus—after another spinning leap with his spear, water erupted from the arena floor, knocking the Prince away, colliding with a wall—head first, so he fell down and no doubt was seeing stars.

She heard Percy suck air through his teeth.

“Have at you!” Theseus shouted, preparing to pin the Prince like an insect.

It looked like he’d land a direct hit—watery haze of his spear flying like a missile right at the prince who struggled to regain his balance. Except, then, it just… stopped, falling in a wet puddle

She saw Percy was clenching one first by his side.

“What in the--? Lord Poseidon?!” he cried, face full of shock.

Annabeth tried to keep her smirk to herself.

Zagreus shook his head and charged forward, then repeated the fight much the same way as he had before until it was all over, and King Theseus perished much the same as Asterius had, some sort of curse getting cut off as he fell.

Zagreus stopped to let out a sigh as the cacophonous roar of the crowd—somehow louder than any previous—echoed probably throughout the whole of Elysium. Flowers and confetti exploded outwards, scattering around him.

The Prince jogged over, still looking bloody and hurt, but with a pleasant smile.

“Hi, you two, I trust Achilles led you quite well” he said, just a few feet down.

“That he did” Annabeth said, climbing out of her seat and throwing one leg over the edge.

Achilles held one of her arms, so she didn’t go careening over the side as Zagreus reached out to help her down, and then did the same Percy. It was so strange—it felt almost like she was a child again, but that was not to say it wasn’t sort of nice, seeing as her ankle still didn’t feel one hundred percent.

“See you at the house, Lord Achilles sir” Zagreus said, waving quickly and then turning around.

Achilles smiled at the Prince, but as Zagreus turned, she watched it fade in an instant.

They left through the arena’s exit. Zagreus waved goodbye to a peculiar orange shade.

ZAGREUS

Bah, one Death Defiance down, he still had two more.

As they moved away from the halls of Elysium into the inner machinations of his father’s realm—the complicated machinery that controlled not only the elevators up and down, but the movements of the various re-arranging rooms—Zagreus slowed down to turn to the two.

“I think we need to discuss our moves going forward” he said, trying not to sound too grave.

He’d previously been—by his own admittance if only to himself—trying to get more time to think of some clever plan to keep the two alive. But he was at an impasse—because long ago when he’d defied his father the first time, things had been different. His father was—at least somewhat—reasonable. His father was himself. His father knew who he was without some invisible layer of separation that Zagreus could not divine. And now, before where he knew that his father might just spit fire and try to lock him down or, at worst, separate him from his friends for some time, Zagreus was not sure if something else might happen—something he didn’t know, because he didn’t know who it was that took his father’s place.

What was worst, he felt, was Persephone—his amazing, loving mother, who’d tried so hard for so long to make up for time lost, to bring warmth and affection into his life, even so many ages after they’d reconciled—even she was of a similar manner. Even she.

He could not count upon her.

And suddenly Zagreus stopped moving, paralyzed.

Percy and Annabeth stared up at him, faces full of worry. “What’s wrong Prince?” Percy asked.

Zagreus didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. He let it out with a scoff, attempting quite clumsily to play it off. “I—it’s fine, I was just… thinking. Anyway,” he said, quickly.

“Right…so, we need to get to the Doors of Death” Annabeth reiterated, but sounded—uncertain, still trying to read him.

“Yes, right—I… look, you two. I don’t doubt that you’re both extremely skilled, I’ve seen you two fight, you do some amazing things—but…” He trailed off. Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words.

“Prince, look—we know that you don’t want to upset Nico, but—he knows, he gets it. He’s a demigod too” Percy explained—but he didn’t look Zagreus in the eye as he spoke.

“That’s—not it” Zagreus said. He felt his hands come up to his chest, one folded in the other.

Annabeth and Percy stared at him, unblinking.

“Prince Zagreus… we heard—several people, yourself included, mention that your parents… aren’t exactly in their right mind. Well—it’s kind of involved with the reason we need to get to the Doors of Death” Annabeth said—choosing her words carefully, but still seemed unsure.

Zagreus didn’t _not_ believe them—but he didn’t really see how those two things were connected.

And so, Annabeth and Percy explained—how the mess of Gaia was interrelated to the strained relationship of the new Greeks and new Romans. Gaia—rarely mentioned, even by those within the House. Not an uncommon happenstance in their realm—for fear of waking forces that should not be trifled with, as Nyx might say (even with regards to her own siblings.) Although it did surprise him to find out how the two were related.

It made him greatly uneasy.

“Do you understand now, why we can’t—it’s not because either of us has a death wish—it’s just—” Annabeth said, eyes squeezed shut.

“—no one else will help you?” Zagreus asked, softly.

“Yes—we don’t really get it but Zeus is…” Annabeth continued before running out of polite wording, it seemed.

“—is being kind of a dick right now” Percy grumbled.

Zagreus wanted to laugh, but for once, could not will himself to.

And though he did understand—at least, he thought he did—it still just felt so wrong. _Everything_ about this was wrong. He wanted so desperately to call Zeus right that instance and yell at him, for what little good it would do—or maybe, channel some of his mother’s shrewd charm, somehow? Or maybe—

“Zagreus, you’re in enough trouble already—you have people worried. We’ll be okay—and, hey, if we do die and aren’t swallowed up into some corner of oblivion, it doesn’t seem… quite as bad” Percy said, only briefly meeting Zagreus’s eyes.

Good _gods_ … these mortals were going to kill him.

“You two are… so, stupid, and so stubborn” he said, feeling heat in his voice, but then, “and… you would make your parents very proud, if you haven’t heard them say it before” he said, even though it made his chest ache.

And—he wasn’t sure how to feel. Sad, angry? Yes, but he didn’t need them to feel that, to add onto their emotional burden. So, he hugged them, so that only for a moment they didn’t feel just left to their own devices by the fickle gods.

After a time too long and too short, he pulled away.

“I still can’t bring myself to just throw you to the Giants” he said.

Percy and Annabeth watched him as he darted away, stopping just short of colliding with the glass case that held all the trinkets he’d acquired. Normally, it locked itself shut once he procured a keepsake, but perhaps it read his intent and did not close on his fingers. Rifling through it, he produced Nyx’s shawl—given to him, so long ago, on his own perilous journey.

Holding it tightly in his hands, he attempted—or maybe prayed—to channel some of his father’s powers of invisibility, hoping that it would combine with the shroud of darkness Nyx had woven and give them the protection they needed. He gripped it tight, turned, and handed it to them.

“And—one last thing. Miss Chase” he said, and then presented to her Varatha.

Parting with it would be painful—but whatever, there were a million infernal ancient artifacts, enhanced with the blood of titans. And, he had no doubt that it would some day or night find its way back down to him. He only hoped it would not be too soon.

Annabeth looked with wide grey eyes that nearly seemed like they might start glowing. “Prince, I can’t possibly.”

Zagreus planted his foot. “I’m not asking. As God of Blood, I am _commanding_ you to take Varatha”

He nearly laughed at himself, trying to sound so serious.

Annabeth took hold—so tentatively, like it might fall through her fingers. Taking hold of it, she seemed to handle it a little awkwardly at first, but he got the sense she’d get the hang of it.

“Now—I’ve only had to walk down once, and I don’t know if anything’s changed,” he said, recalling the single instance some time ago where Lord Hades left the realm beyond the instances he came up to fight his son, “but good luck, you two.”

Zagreus walked towards where one large chain ran far, far into darkness. It was a bit awkward, bent down, half of his body over the edge and groped around in the darkness for a latch. After reaching around into the cool, metallic smelling air for a time, he found the lip of where a ledge unfurled. Much too small for Lord Hades to use, but perhaps left there by Daedalus.

He flipped open the flap and the metal clanged, then from the force there was the clink-clink-clink as the metal ladder tumbled out before the sharp sound as it locked into place.

“Alright. If you run into a problem, come right back up here—I’ll wait for as long as I can before someone gets suspicious” he said as he walked them over.

Zagreus sort of pushed them towards the exit, hands at their backs to usher them along.

“But—what’re you going to do without a weapon?” Percy asked.

He waved his hand, “I’ll figure something out. Maybe Lord Hades will forget to show up this time.”

Never—but he wasn’t about to have those two worrying for his sake when they clearly had much more at stake by hanging around there.

And then, Zagreus waited in near silence—hearing them going down the ladder, and then their steps be engulfed in darkness, leaving the Prince to sit in the dim light of the chamber’s glittering gilded sigils of Cerberus’s heads and fearsome visage.

He hoped, some way, that merely by promising he could make everything so.

ANNABETH

It was a long winding path all the way down—the elevator did travel quite a way, she recalled on their ride from Asphodel to Elysium. But, going down the stairs was much easier than crawling down a cliff.

The whole time Percy kept the shawl of Night tucked under his arm.

“What if the magic of it like, runs out if we use it too long” he explained.

Annabeth quirked a brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Well—Zagreus doesn’t exactly seem like he does a ton of magic” Percy said, “it’s not even _his_ magical artifact.”

That did make her wonder—how, exactly, did Zagreus acquire such an item? Nyx was Gaia’s sister—although that did not mean Zagreus didn’t, like, steal it, but somehow, she doubted that by the way Zagreus had gently folded it with great care (after gripping it like, really really firmly).

Holding Varatha in her offhand, she tried to focus on the spear as opposed to her growing dread—and the pressure she didn’t realize built the further down they walked—closer and closer to Asphodel and by proxy, Tartarus.

Ah, gods, she was thinking about it.

Varatha was a pretty spear—for as pretty as a spear could be. Not needlessly elegant, but simple. It was a light blue with two prongs, with green accents. It was expertly balanced—tipping it one way or the other, light enough it moved quickly, but definitely had a sturdy air about it.

Once a distance down and away from where they’d parted from the Prince, the fog cleared enough they could get a general sense of where the Doors of Death had been located. Some great distance away was an ominous red glow tucked into a mountainous outcropping. They could faintly see what looked like swarms of flying creatures making their ways towards the glow, and in the dim light there was the faint outline of what was most definitely a long procession of monsters tracing their way up the mountain.

Feeling dread turn her bones to jelly, Annabeth closed her eyes for a brief moment and sucked air in—even though she could feel it sticking to her throat.

Spears were not her weapon of choice despite them being a mainstay of Greek fighting styles—both historic and contemporary, when it came to the demigods, but she did feel a little at a disadvantage without a shield.

She supposed that being able to throw it and call it back made up for the lack of defense.

Reaching the noxious air of Tartarus, after a few more turns down the staircase they reached the bottom. Annabeth and Percy both paused, staring at the threshold of the stone masonry—before it broke away in the rocky cave floor.

This. _Sucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left nice comments last chapter!! it meant a lot, also dw Asterius is fine. He's Fine. It's Fine. He's just a little mad about getting killed not once but twice


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth and Percy trudge their way through Tartarus and Zagreus changes his mind.

PERCY

It seemed like a tributary of the Styx ran off towards the Doors of Death, which was good since the very air seemed to waver and shudder, making the ominous red glow far off in the hazy distance flicker in visibility. Red lightning flickered in the blackened clouds above, but no rain fell—though, he didn’t want to imagine what sort of awful rain would come from any Underworld clouds.

Scattered throughout the landscape of Tartarus were fragments of buildings—great statues half sunken into the broken earth, making bridges against crevasses, or crumbling buildings leaning precariously on one another.

Getting nearer to the grand statues revealed many of them to be depictions of monsters—manticores and drakons and the Hekatonkheires and Furies, or that of people rapt in horror, or kneeling in defeat, or begging for mercy. It was a little on the nose.

He and Annabeth shimmied across one fallen pillar connecting the two edges of a crevasse, down which some of the blood red waters of Styx flowed—and yet, there was no sound of the river crashing to the floor of the crevasse, not even an echo.

_Note to self. Literal bottomless pits._

Now that they were a fair distance from the surface and the Prince, he was beginning to feel the exhaustion seeping back in from before—he’d almost forgotten how much energy it took just to breathe.

“Percy, look” Annabeth said, gesturing a little with Varatha.

In the dim light it was a little hard to see clearly, but he could make out what looked like the beginnings of a bog—dead pine trees poked out of the ground like silent watchers, whilst some brackish waters stumbled between long filamentous black plants. The water flowed, endlessly, over the edge of the crevasse.

“Any ideas about where this might be?” he asked.

“Not a clue, but unfortunately it looks like it’s on our way, and” Annabeth paused, looking into darkness in either direction away from the swamp, “I don’t think we have time to try to go around.”

Into the bog they trudged—whatever waters it originated from, it was ice cold, soaking through what was left of his sneakers. Normally in such an instance he would’ve just slip off his shoes to keep them dry, but he did not want some bog monster to grab him barefooted or to find out that the mud was full of swords and broken glass.

Percy tried his best to shuffle through the shallowest areas—where the freezing water reached just his knees, but the dark water and dark plants that obscured the dark mud made it almost impossible to feel it out—even with Riptide glowing in hand, it also just seemed that the ground underneath their feet was…. _Shifting_. It was hard to tell if it was because the ground itself was alive or if there was something else at play.

He held his breath and tried to avoid thinking about it as he slogged through. For a time, it appeared the ground was stable-ish, except there were several instances where one wrong foot meant he slipped into the water with it freezing over all the way past his waist.

At least with Annabeth trailing behind him that way, she at least kind of knew where not to step.

Percy’s teeth began chattering. The cold water-mud combo was making it impossible to move any faster, but every second was sapping the heat out of his body instead of waking him up. Usually, water had the effect of energizing him, but not any in the Underworld. He wasn’t even entirely certain that if he asked (or commanded) it would fully yield.

“For as much as I love marching through the coldest bog in the Underworld, do we have to do it in silence?” Annabeth asked, putting on a burst of speed (or, rather, shuffling a little faster) to walk beside him.

“No, I guess not” Percy said. “So, uh—how’d Varatha treating you?”

“Well, it hasn’t exploded or turned into snakes yet” Annabeth said—her voice was slightly slurred because her lips had turned blue.

“Did you expect it to?” he asked as she looped an arm over his neck again, and he copied the motion.

“Hm, no, although it’d be pretty funny—especially given everything else about this place” she said.

Percy laughed and Annabeth joined in. Maybe it wasn’t that funny, but it felt good to have her beside him.

Now, of course, Percy should have assumed that things such as joy and happiness were things antagonistic to the very realm of Tartarus, and therefore that he and Annabeth’s mirth would call down upon some great misfortune.

So, naturally, moments later after their laughter had died down and taken just a few more steps forward, from the black waters a grey drakon surfaced from the freezing water. Sloughs of half-shed skin wrapped its body like a mummy’s wrapping and covered its eyes in a cloudy blue haze. It flicked its serpent like tongue out and turned its head in their direction.

Aaaaand _shit_.

It let out a fierce roar and charged their way. Annabeth split away and Percy tried to do the same but landed in a deep spot and sunk all the way, head to toe, into the dark freezing water.

ZAGREUS

There wasn’t much he could do except wait. First, for eons it felt, he stood right by the exit to Tartarus, until the drone of machinery got to be too much for his fraying nerves that he got up and journeyed into Styx. He hadn’t forgotten he still needed to pay Charon after all.

“Ggrraahhhhhh” Charon said, examining him.

“It’s fine… hey, you’d tell me if they both just died, right?” he asked.

“Mmmrreehhhhhh” Charon answered.

“…Thanks, Charon mate” he said.

For a time, he just sat still, legs hanging over the Styx, fishing for a time—despite the fact there were no fish, trying to entertain ideas of himself getting through the Satyr lairs with just the Rod of Fishing and his casts and fists. Miss Chase had seemed apt to do just the same.

Zagreus sighed and laid back.

It just seemed so silly. Ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine having all that power at your fingertips and just—not. Not helping your children, not even if it were to save yourselves. The Giants were bad news. Gaia was even _worse_ news. _Why, Uncle Zeus? For what reason?_ Was he merely confident they could rise to face them again? He did suppose there must have been something awfully embarrassing about relying on a bunch of children to save you—but how could one’s pride be _so_ wounded?

Was that not what family was for? To have a bond, that in times of need, to ask for help? Then again—well, their family was awfully discordant.

He didn’t get it. Although Thanatos had once cautioned him against helping those who did not want his help—this was different. And he’d tried. He knew that neither Percy nor Annabeth would accept his aid in letting them just leave, and also knew he could not stay behind at their side. So, he went for second best. But second best was just so, so bitter.

Even Patroclus, who was very careful with his sentimentality, seemed saddened by the demigods weakness—their drive, the inevitableness of their fate.

“Ugh!” he huffed.

Cerberus, who had watched him for a time, walked over—having decided, in its own wisdom, that the Prince would probably not be trying an escape that day. And so, the giant infernal hound marched over and plopped itself right down at his side so that its red fur was in Zagreus’s face.

“Thanks boy” Zagreus said voice muffled and now, mouth full of hair.

Cerberus let out a huff and let the Prince pet him for the time.

“Grrraaaahhhh…” Charon said—tone of excitement, oddly enough.

“What’re you talking abo—oh?” Zagreus said, as he lifted himself from Cerberus’s side to see in the center of the room was a black orb stealing light from the room.

Zagreus knew that it was Nyx—must have been, right?—sending a message, to him?

He hopped onto his feet and nearly leapt over, touching the beacon of darkness. Rather than viewing in, he saw the dark shape take for the form of Nyx—although, slightly fuzzy at the edges, like a shade.

“Greetings child. I sensed distress—you haven’t moved beyond Styx in some time” she said, concern trickling from her stoicism.

She must have feared he might have gotten captured—or stuck. The Temple of Styx was the most direct exit from the Underworld (which was saying something). “Well, I won’t say I’m not distressed but, it’s fine, Nyx.”

Nyx studied him for a moment. “Speak, child.”

“Well, I can’t imagine with your cosmic insights you haven’t noticed two live demigods running around” he said, waiting to see if anything changed in Nyx’s expression, “well—I’ve, sort of been… helping them?”

Nyx did not often show shock, anger, sadness—or when she did, it was very subdued beyond the flicker of shadows or tension in the air. So, when Nyx raised both eyebrows, he knew he was _in it._

“Child…” she began, perhaps for a moment lost for words, “I… have always been… proud of the generosity of your spirit. But also, doubtless, that you know to exercise caution when forgoing your father’s laws—that one chief amongst. It is one thing for you to escape the Underworld but…”

“Well, I have been cautious” he said, feeling a bit like a disciplined child, “but—I, Nyx—I just—it feels wrong to withhold help—they weren’t even supposed to be here, they got dragged in by some spider-woman”

Nyx’s eyebrows knit slightly. “Child… I know that you mean well, but our meddling often ends in tragedy.”

Zagreus sighed. “I know.”

Nyx allowed one hand to reach forward and touch his shoulder, giving him some amount of comfort.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore now—they’re off in Tartarus searching for the Doors of Death.”

The tension in Nyx’s face eased back to curiosity. “For what reason?”

“Well, it’s all very complex, but from the sounds of it, Gaia is raising the Giants to go fight the Olympians, and also there’s a fight she caused between the new Greeks and Romans that’s giving them all a lot of confusion and weakening them” he explained—or, rather tried to.

Nyx hummed. “I see—I believe so, rather.”

“Yeah it’s a lot to take in. I guess—maybe a little selfishly, that by helping them I might help mother and father too. But they just looked—mortals look quite miserable in the moments before death” he said, then sighed.

Nyx looked at him—she always had a way of disarming him with just that look. Just by look alone did it feel for a moment like she’d neutralized the sort of joking he did to dance around that which troubled him.

It was not just the special insight that came with her power, nor age, but merely because she had raised him in part—and well, knew his tells.

“Zagreus… it was not so long ago, relatively speaking, that I had aided you for as much as I could in a similar matter—to, perhaps, mend the fraying threads of our House. I can see that the House will not be in proper order until this issue is resolved—so, tell me then, Child—would you be willing to disregard your father’s wishes to help him and your mother once more?”

ANNABETH

She watched Percy disappear almost comically into the water, but there was not even the moment for it to register before she was scrambling through the oily mud as fast as possible as the drakon swung its head at her, mouth open wide.

Plunging one end of Varatha into the earth, she pole-vaulted herself forward. If nothing else, it seemed the monster’s size had a slowing affect on its long stride meaning that as Annabeth slipped and slid away did the drakon stick one foot far into the mud and got stuck half down.

Annabeth launched Varatha at the monster’s head, aiming for an eye. Varatha sparkled blue as it flew through the drakon’s head and then was called back again. The creature hissed and opened its maw, spraying poison in her direction. She stumbled away, hearing the poison sizzle on the marsh’s surface and wither the black grasses.

As she scrambled, she saw Percy emerge from the water near to the drakon’s tail, thrusting up Riptide into its thigh. In rage, it swiped its tail again and nearly took off Percy’s head if he hadn’t slipped back under the water—it was hard to tell if he’d done it on purpose, but she was just glad she didn’t watch Percy get his neck broken.

Annabeth swept forward, launching herself to plunge the spear into the drakon’s thick hide. As she extracted it, she pulled white papery skin off that obscured the point of the spear and make it just that much more unwieldy.

The drakon took a swipe with its claws, giving her no time to try and rip off the scaled skin and only moments of scramble out of its reach—Annabeth felt the ground slip out from under her feet and her back go straight into the freezing cold muddy water, knocking her breath out.

There was a bone shilling moment where she saw the drakon crouched over her and open its mouth, saw the poison lingering on its lips. With no traction to be found elsewhere, she jabbed Varatha up into its belly and used that sticking point to slide herself out, before calling the spear back to her as she struggled back onto her feet.

The drakon, indignant but seeming more inconvenienced rather than wounded, spouted more poison at her. Annabeth tried ducking again, but was too close to escape the stray splashes of poison as they fell on her outstretched arm protecting her face. At first, it felt terrible cold—so hot, it was cold in fact, which in hindsight should have told her that the searing pain was so intense that her mind was not quite sure how to consider it at first.

When it did hit her, it knocked her breath out again, and she felt her legs go out from under her.

“Annabeth!” she heard Percy cry.

She didn’t see him—but did see what looked like a torrent of water explode out from the swamp and crash against the drakon.

Despite the cold sweat on her brow and the nauseous feeling eating away at her remaining strength, she found it in her still to join in the attack, launching her spear from as far as she could manage whilst recalling distantly some information about swamp plants and healing capabilities, taking a brief moment to plunge her still burning arm into the dark water and spread mud across it which made it just feel numb, thankfully, between the cold and the pain.

PERCY

With the cloak of Night on his shoulders, the freezing cold water swirling around him, he attacked the drakon with revived ferocity.

Battering against the drakon, holding Riptide aloft in the starry darkness, he slashed it broadside whilst the torrent of water protected him from its poison breath. He had no pretentions about victory—he was, if nothing else, just pissed, and wanted to take this damn thing down.

It swiped its claws through the water, narrowly missing him.

Distantly, he could see the faint glow of Varatha flying through the air. It gave him some relief knowing that Annabeth was still conscious, but he still felt the lasting stillness in his heart when he watched her go down.

It was then he felt something light touch him under the arm, but he was far too focused to pay mind to the sensation as he lunged.

The darkness he was shrouded in seemed to waver briefly. His guess had been correct—the magic had worn off, but for long as he could control the brackish waters he was still semi insulated.

With a hiss the drakon reared up, trying to lay him flat in a quick motion. Percy spun to get out of the way, but the drakon kept coming, and lurching forward it grabbed him right out of the water column (even as the raging torrent ripped off its shed skin).

There was barely a moment for him to come up with any sort of clever plan to get out of its grasp, because it whipped him to the ground so hard the water felt like it’d frozen into ice.

His vision wavered and he felt the weird little wriggling sensation again. With numb fingers he reached up to touch whatever it was, almost passively given he felt his mind spinning off into darkness. It almost felt like a plush item—without really thinking about it he ran his hands over it to get a sense of its shape. It felt a little bit like a toy mouse for a cat.

Touching it, he felt his stomach do flips and a low bell tone rung in his head.

“I’m here.”

It was a familiar voice that he lacked the faculties to put to a name, but with his dim vision even he could see the shine of a blade in the dark, and the drakon’s head came clean off before it exploded into dust.

He felt Annabeth grip his arm and yank him out of the water, shaking him awake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to get his eyes to focus.

“You’re not Zag” he heard an icy voice say—not bored, but lacking emotion beyond a sort of curious irritation.

Looking up, his eyes met a somewhat familiar form, one he knew—Thanatos, God of Death, floating a touch off the ground as he produced a black cloth to wipe off his scythe. His hair was silver white this time, but he was very much still wearing more ‘yeah this is definitely a god’ look, as opposed to trying to hide.

“You—wait Zagreus?” Annabeth said. She’d caked her arm in mud, but he could see it’d turned red and splotchy even in the areas distant from where the poison had fallen.

“Just what are you doing with his spear and my mother’s cloak—and is that—Mort?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Percy did not like how he held the scythe with _both_ hands.

“Zagreus gave them to us. We’re on our way to free _your_ door” he said, a little pointed, a little irritated, maybe because whatever sense he’d ever had had floated off into the water.

Mort—the apparent fuzzy (now wet) toy—was not just a statis object, it seemed, because it wiggled out of Percy’s grasp and leapt up to Death to hide itself in his cloak. Thanatos furrowed his eyebrows but otherwise didn’t react.

Thanatos scoffed, planting on hand on his hip. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Do you really think we have what it takes to beat him?” Annabeth said, voice flat.

“No, but I also don’t think it’s a stretch too far to imagine you could have just stolen them” Thanatos derided—not casual but not particularly incensed either. More just annoyed. Percy could do annoyed, even if he would rather not have the God of Death to be angry with them at all.

“Why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Percy huffed.

“Tsch, you both have a lot of nerve, acting like that, given your current condition.”

“What’re you gonna do, eat us” Percy said, rolling his eyes.

Thanatos made a flat face, a stray white hair falling in front of his face. The God of Death, put-off his groove by a seventeen year-old’s sass.

“Let’s say I believe you two, and you are making your way off to the Doors of Death. What exactly are you planning on doing once you get there?” he asked—voice still dull.

“We told you” Annabeth repeated.

“As you are right now? I will admit, it was difficult to find you at first with Mother Nyx’s shroud around you, but I doubt that you would have made it all that far into the monsters hoards, Varatha in hand or not” Thanatos said, slight raise of one brow the only indication of emotion.

Well, there was no arguing with that.

“Unless, of course, you were planning on dying heroically” Thanatos waved his hand, “how foolish.”

“What?” Annabeth balked, nearly hissing, “aren’t they _your_ Doors, sir? Aren’t you just a little mad you got chained down by the giants?”

Thanatos tsked again, lowering himself a little in the air to lean forward. “Don’t you get it? You wouldn’t have gotten close enough to make a difference. You’d just be dead. You had escape served to you on a silver platter and you just turned around to die?”

There was a fragment in there that Thanatos had let slip—apparently, somehow, he had heard they’d been parading after Zagreus on their way out and had probably just been testing them (bah, what was it with gods and their oblique tests?) but whatever, fine, in that moment he almost felt—embarrassed, somehow.

Percy didn’t even really know how to respond.

“Are you one to talk? He’s literally the first god in who knows how long to give us a direct hand and he gets in deep shit for it” Annabeth said, speaking to their shared frustration.

Thanatos’s expression shifted just a bit—almost like a slight grimace as he flattened his mouth more purposefully.

“And your solution is dying for it—has it ever crossed your mind for one moment that it may not be your sole responsibility?” the god said.

There was a beat of silence. Although he, nor Annabeth, apparently, had a retort, he did glare back at Death himself. Sure, maybe there was some current in him that had wanted to run selfishly, but he could never face any of his friends (presuming they lived.)

“Gah, I don’t have time for this. If you two want to wander off into Mother Nyx’s swamp, be my guest. I’ll be here to come collect” Thanatos hissed.

“We’re in Nyx’s swamp?—Nyx has a swamp?” Percy asked.

“Naturally. I’d have thought you two would be a bit more covert about running off but apparently you two decided to barrel straight into—” Thanatos started, but there was a sort of—fizzling sound, and it got very dark. In the reflection of the water, between the three was the blurry image of a woman, adorned with stars and inky blackness—somehow yet darker than the darkness of Tartarus.

“I—hello, Mother Nyx” Thanatos asked, lips pursing.

_Imagine trying to lecture two demigods and then your mom calls_ , Percy thought.

The water rippled and a transparent vision of Nyx appeared—she looked much more akin to an ancient goddess Percy imagined, with draping rich purple fabric and wearing skulls and dark gems, her black hair fanning out almost like wings.

Though like mist, she did step so her back was no longer facing he and Annabeth. Before her, even the misty image, he felt a lot more reason to show deference—because, sure, Thanatos might not actually go out of his way to kill them (not their time etcetera) but _Nyx_?

“Greetings child… and others” she said, voice subdued by still defined by calm authority—if not a touch of uncertainty with how to address the two.

“Mother—if I may, why is it that you wanted me to find them?” Thanatos asked.

“I come bearing a message, strangely enough,” she began, arms folded in front of her, head tilted slightly as if reflecting on something peculiar, “Zagreus has requested that we ensure your safe passage, as it long past time you returned to the surface realm” she said, turning to look between him and Annabeth.

“Goddess of Night—we—we can’t” he said, unsure if his lips failed to work because the cold had caught up to him or, because every part of his body was rebelling against his need to contradict Night herself.

Nyx looked into his face for a moment, observing, studying, while indicating nothing further. It unsettled him greatly, seeing nothing behind her eyes.

“Zagreus has already informed me of the precarity of your situation, and I assure you that shall be attended to, without need of your presence in our realm” she said, coolly, although explained nothing. It would be _attended_ to?

Percy had thought, previously, Nyx might be on Gaia’s side—being born from Chaos and mother to many monsters (and Death, who stood up very straight at the moment while looking baffled) and probably not really a big fan of most of the Olympic gods, but the way she spoke—and, the fact she probably could have just beamed there to kill them herself—indicated some—probably indirect—manner of assistance, perhaps?

But he wasn’t one hundred percent settled on the fact.

“I—miss—can you explain what you mean?” he asked.

“What I am saying. Son of Poseidon, Daughter of Athena, that you have stirred into motion that which cannot be undone—and done some to unfix the Fate’s weavings. And for that, I cannot allow you to linger in our realm, service to my son Thanatos or not” Nyx ordered in a still yet colder manner—but lying under her words was not indignation.

Thanatos looked confused for a moment, before apparently catching on. “Yes, Mother Nyx. I will take them to Zagreus right away then” he said.

“One more thing, my son—bring this to Zagreus. He has forgotten he can’t very well face his father without a weapon.” Nyx’s image began to fade, but the water appeared to boil underneath her. Rising from it was a blood red sword.

Thanatos took the blade in hand.

“Alright you two, I don’t often transport living people, but hopefully this doesn’t just kill you” he stated simply, and then the air began to feel—pressurized, energetic, like a thunderstorm.

Before he could say anything, there was a flash. Hurtling in darkness, it almost felt like a dream—the one where you’re falling and wake up, the oncoming sensation of hitting the ground despite knowing there’s nothing there.

It felt like his brain was still rattling around in his skull when they—landed? Beamed into? He wasn’t entirely certain what it was Thanatos had just done, but now they were in some strange temple, with a giant red three headed dog and Zagreus standing before them.

ANNABETH

Plunging through darkness only to end up in an ancient temple was not quite how she imagined getting out of there—not that she had really expected to get out of there at all, in all honesty.

“Hey Zag” Thanatos said, surprisingly warm and pleasant.

“Hey—is that Stygius?” Zagreus asked, holding out his hand as Thanatos transferred the infernal blade to him.

“Yes—you know, you really should think twice before handing off your weapons to some demigod you haven’t known for that long” Thanatos said, glancing her way with gold eyes.

Zagreus waved his hand. “Annabeth’s fine.”

Thanatos scoffed a little, more friendly in nature, as opposed to the condescending one that she’d gotten before.

“Anyways, see you back at the house. Thank you for sticking your neck out for me, Than” Zagreus said—and then, in a move that Annabeth would have never anticipated, pushed himself on his toes to plant a brief kiss on the God of Death’s cheek. What she expected less was for Thanatos’s cheeks to darken.

“Uh—yeah. Don’t worry, only Meg knows right now” Thanatos mumbled and pulled his black hood over his head. “I’m not sure how long she can keep your mother distracted though so come back quickly.”

Zagreus nodded.

“And—one more thing, demigods” Thanatos said. The light blush cleared as he turned his dark gaze once upon them once more (though, now slightly less menacing)

“Yes, sir?” Percy asked.

“Don’t do something stupid and get killed.”

And then in a green flash, he disappeared.

Annabeth blinked twice. “Well, he’s interesting” she said, which made Percy snicker.

“Don’t worry, Than—he just cares about me is all. But I’ve got a plan now” Zagreus said, and Annabeth recalled same way he’d acted around Megaera—casual, friendly, disarming, it seemed. What an interesting god.

Annabeth raised a brow, curious as to what sort of plan that the Prince had concocted in their time apart. In a similar manner, she’d been disarmed of her first instinct to mistrust—a trick was oncoming, that they were nearly powerless to avoid, but looking at Zagreus’s face softened her wariness.

Maybe she was just—tired, and hurt, and hungry, and wanted desperately to just see the sun again, and her friends—or maybe Zagreus was just really honest when it mattered.

“So, what _is_ the plan?” Percy asked.

Zagreus began walking, “I’m going to finish my job as usual, and you two are going to get out. Nyx’s cloak still has a little magic to it—it’s important that you two make a run for it though, as fast as you can.”

They continued walking until coming upon five iron barred doors leading off into—well, somewhere, whilst the Styx murmured under them. She could see where the water from the outside world flowed in then turned blood red.

“You’ll go past the frozen overlook, then—you’ll go left of where the sun rises, then through the cold. You should find some place safe to wait for your friends” Zagreus said.

“But, wait, Prince—Nyx, well, she didn’t say, but did imply that the Doors would be taken care of—how?” she stopped walking to ask, suddenly very afraid she’d been right to doubt the Prince.

“I’ll do it, from my end” Zagreus said easily.

“But there are—Titans and—Giants and who knows what—” Percy started to say, but then Zagreus held up his hand.

“ _I’ll_ do it. You’re both technically my very distantly removed cousins, so think of it as a family favor.”

But Annabeth could not help but see the Prince’s blood-stained clothes and bruised skin and assume the worst. But Zagreus walked off towards one of the gates, and they’d get left outside if they kept standing still, so she turned and shrugged at Percy, then they dashed off after the Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya yall! you might have noticed updates have slowed down - I've gotten through most of my pre-written stuff now + I've gone back to school. I'm going to try to get the last few chapters finished before the semester kicks into high gear but for the time being if updates seem slow that's why.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this purely to make middle/high school me happy and I'm having a great time yall. Please be nice since I haven't read the series as a whole in years but did reread most of House of Hades + spent many hours on wikis to make sure I got things right ^^''


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